#frost wind dale

[wanderinred]

This week, my party will embark on an epic journey that combines the chilling tale of "Rime of the Frostmaiden" with the exciting "Light of Xaryxis." I've been eagerly waiting for the perfect moment to merge these two incredible stories, and with the awesome group I have, I decided the time had finally come. To kick off our adventure, I've crafted some detailed maps that will immerse us into the heart of the narrative. Get ready for an unforgettable campaign that promises frosty mysteries and radiant quests, all within a single, thrilling saga! Stay tuned for updates as the journey unfolds. And if you're interested in the one-shot I wrote for these maps, I'll be releasing the pdf later this week after our session.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Queer Books November 2023

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ The Pirate and the Porcelain Girl by Emily Riesbeck 🧡 Heading North by Holly M. Wendt 💛 The Wisdom of Bug by Alyson Root 💚 Trick Shot by Kayla Grosse 💙 A Holly Jolly Christmas by Emily Wright 💜 Outdrawn by Deanna Grey ❤️ Yours Celestially by Al Hess 🧡 The Christmas Memory by Barbara Winkes 💛 Violet Moon by Mel E. Lemon 💙 The Santa Pageant by Lillian Barry 💜 Only for the Holidays by Shannon O’Connor 🌈 Homestead for the Holidays by Wren Taylor

❤️ You Can Count on Me by Fae Quin 🧡 No One Left But You by Tash McAdam 💛 The Worst Thing of All is the Light by José Luis Serrano, Lawrence Schimel 💚 Today Tonight Forever by Madeline Kay Sneed 💙 Wren Martin Ruins It All by Amanda DeWitt 💜 Emmett by L. C. Rosen ❤️ Finding My Elf by David Valdes 🧡 Tonight, I Burn by Katharine J. Adams 💛 Gorgeous Gruesome Faces by Linda Cheng 💙 Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 💜 A Power Unbound by Freya Marske 🌈 We Are the Crisis by Cadwell Turnbull

❤️ The Manor House Governess by C.A. Castle 🧡 You Owe Me One, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen by Sarah James 💚 Skip!: A Graphic Novel by Rebecca Burgess 💙 Something About Her by Clementine Taylor 💜 Touching the Art by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore ❤️ A Nearby Country Called Love by Salar Abdoh 🧡 Normporn: Queer Viewers and the TV That Soothes Us by Karen Tongson 💛 Sir Callie and the Dragon’s Roost by Esme Symes-Smith 💙 The Order of the Banshee by Robyn Singer 💜 Once Upon My Dads’ Divorce by Seamus Kirst, Noémie Gionet Landry 🌈 Forsooth by Jimmy Matejek-Morris

❤️ A Common Bond by T.M. Kuta 🧡 Risk the Fall by Riley Hart 💛 Just a Little Snack by Yah-Yah Scholfield 💚 Home for the Holidays by Erin Zak 💙 NeurodiVeRse by MJ James 💜 Dark Heir (Dark Rise #2) by C.S. Pacat ❤️ sub/Dom by Rab Green 🧡 Bitten by the Bond by Elaine White 💛 Heir to Frost and Storm by Ben Alderson 💙 The Sea of Stars by Gwenhyver 💜 Bad Beat by L.M. Bennett 🌈 Idol Moves by K.T. Salvo

❤️ Plot Twist by Erin La Rosa 🧡 In the Pines by Mariah Stillbrook 💛 The Crimson Fortress (The Ivory Key #2) by Akshaya Raman 💚 Only She Came Back by Margot Harrison 💙 Megumi & Tsugumi, Vol. 4 by Mitsuru Si 💜 Pritty by Keith F. Miller Jr. ❤️ Just Lizzie by Karen Wilfrid 🧡 An Atlas to Forever by Krystina Rivers 💛 Come Find Me in the Midnight Sun by Bailey Bridgewater 💙 Bait and Witch by Clifford Mae Henderson 💜 Shadow Baron by Davinia Evans 🌈 Day by Michael Cunningham

❤️ Livingston Girls by Briana Morgan 🧡 Delay of the Game by Ari Baran 💛 The Nanny with the Nice List by K. Sterling 💚 A Talent Ignited by Suzanne Lenoir 💙 A Kiss of the Siren’s Song by E.A.M. Trofimenkoff 💜 Rivals for Love by Ali Vali ❤️ Whiskey & Wine by Kelly Fireside, Tana Fireside 🧡 Buried Secrets by Sheri Lewis Wohl 💛 Ride with Me by Jenna Jarvis 💙 Living for You by Jenny Frame 💜 Death on the Water by CJ Birch 🌈 Merciless Waters by Rae Knowles

❤️ Vicarious by Chloe Spencer 🧡 Sapling’s Depths by Spencer Rose 💛 That French Summer by Sienna Waters 💚 System Overload by Saxon James 💙 King of Death by Lily Mayne 💜 Warts and All by Ashley Bennett ❤️ Principle Decisions by Thea Belmont 🧡 The Best Mistake by Emily O’Beirne 💛 Sugar and Ice by Eule Grey 💙 Until The Blood Runs Dry by MC Johnson 💜 Splinter : A Diverse Sleepy Hollow Retelling by Jasper Hyde 🌈 The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q by Felicia Davin

❤️ The Queer Girl is Going to be Okay by Dale Walls 🧡 Til Death Do Us Bard by Rose Black 💛 Leverage by E.J. Noyes 💚 Alice Sadie Celine by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright 💙 Godly Heathens by H.E. Edgmon 💜 Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher ❤️ To Kill a Shadow by Katherine Quinn 🧡 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💛 For Never & Always by Helena Greer 💙 A Demon’s Guide to Wooing a Witch by Sally Hawley 💜 Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù 🌈 A Carol for Karol by Ann Roberts

[pclysemia]

“Roger, I know the moves I’m supposed to make, and I know the board. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I’ve started to focus out beyond the edge of the board, at a bigger game. The sound wind makes through the pines. The sentience of animals. What we fear in the dark, and what lies beyond the darkness…I’m talking about seeing beyond fear, Roger. About looking at the world with love.”

Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks (episode 18 "Masked Ball") (created by David Lynch and Mark Frost, 1990-1991)

[omgkalyppso]

2 and 19 for Étoile? <3

Thank you for the ask!

2. Is your OC a loner or a social butterfly? Are they satisfied with how they come across to other people?

Étoile is like the quietest extrovert, but they're still an extrovert and a social butterfly when time permits. They are satisfied with how they come across to other people in the sense that they're not plagued by anything? They try to be mindful and include people in conversations and activities that might appeal to them. They try to be quiet about things others might disapprove of in public settings (like their belief in an evil God). They do alright.

19. Has your OC ever had an experience with the paranormal or the divine? What happened? Was it a one time encounter or is it a normal part of their life? Did they find it terrifying or thrilling?

Étoile would have encountered more than a few spirits on different adventures and in their youth. In canon there's any skeleton enemies, like leading up to Withers, there's He Who Was' ability, there's Oskar's situation. Spirits are hardly a rarity in their setting.

I imagine a great frozen lake on a nearby mountaintop to their mountain they grew up on, where monster hunters and specific unfortunates were intentionally misled only to be overtaken by the cold and the elements, pulled under the ice or frozen in the emptiness, or ended by Wylla (their werewolf mother), or ice wraiths, or any other curses or wildlife. And that for maintenance or murder that Étoile was tasked often enough to visit this mountaintop, where bones half extend from the banks of the lake, where the wind and the dead wail across the emptiness, but Étoile's faith, and by extension their Goddess, and their mothers protected them from the lingering hatred and active possession of the dead. They found these paranormal encounters more pitiful and annoying than either terrifying or thrilling. Étoile is capable of as much hate as they are of love.

I was tempted to be like, they didn't have any divine interactions until the canon event but after reading more about Auril and The Timeline, I do think that they get the occasional message from their god, and that their mother, a priest of Auril, had far more frequent communications with Auril. In 1485 (7 years before the events of bg3) Auril had a Chosen in Icewind Dale amassing power, and I think Auril reached out to her most devout / army-ready followers to go to Hedrun to declare their allegiance, and Étoile got as far as Waterdeep before word of Hedrun's defeat and capture by the Red Wizards of Thay reached them.

Two years later Auril began the Everlasting Rime on an island off Faerûn which was meant to be an eternal winter; it spread as far as covering all of Icewind Dale. During this time Auril was described as self-isolated, and the whole thing ended when, her power drained from upholding the storm, Auril was slain by adventurers. The head of her pantheon, Talos the Stormlord, removed snow (storms) from her domains for how Auril had injured her now strained friend Umberlee, the Bitch Queen / the goddess of the ocean. From this time forth, Auril can remain slain by mortals, resurrecting at the next winter solstice. I don't imagine any communication from Auril to her followers during the Everlasting Rime, mainly because she had to focus but also because she was bitter and vengeful against the world as a result of Hedrun's fate.

Étoile has always been awed by the power of the gods, and any time they received power or guidance from Auril it's been refreshing and energizing and exciting. I headcanon that Auril's paladins, clerics, warlocks, air genasi and water genasi are unable to use Ray of Frost when she has been slain and is awaiting resurrection.

[foxglove-the-never-fairy]

Fairy Names Pt. 2

Fly with you! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Anyway, I’m here for a second part of one of my most popular posts.

The first post listed fairy names that were used in the DS game “Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue” in the create-a-fairy section of the game. While the names provided were feminine, I have pulled all of the masculine fairy names from the original Pixie Hollow game. Some names are repeats from the original post, but I kept them in as I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy. Here’s the original post.

~🧚🏻‍♀️🔥 Foxglove 

First

Aaron

Ace

Acorn

Agate

Ajay

Alabaster

Alder

Alec

Aleron

Alex

Anchor

Andrew

Archer

Axel

Badger

Bailey

Baker

Bale

Banjo

Barclay

Basil

Benjy

Bert

Bevel

Birch

Bo

Boomer

Boone

Brock

Bruce

Brynn

Buddy

Burr

Burton

Buster

Calder

Casper

Cecil

Cedar

Chance

Chase

Chip

Clay

Cliff

Coal

Cog

Comet

Cosmo

Cote

Covey

Crag

Crane

Cyan

Dale

Dane

Darius

Darrin

Dawson

Decker

Deon

Devlin

Dewey

Donner

Drake

Dug

Dunn

Dustin

Dusty

Echo

Eddy

Edward

Elk

Emery

Erik

Ernie

Errol

Fennel

Fincher

Finn

Fir

Flint

Ford

Francis

Garnet

Glen

Gourd

Gourdie

Grove

Grub

Gull

Hale

Hare

Harris

Hawk

Henry

Heron

Hob

Jacob

James

Jasper

Jay

Kernal

Koto

Lance

Lark

Leaf

Lore

Lute

Lyric

Martin

Maze

Mica

Michal

Nadir

Nester

Oak

Ollie

Onyx

Otter

Peat

Pier

Pine

Quake

Quarry

Quinn

Rain

Ranger

Reed

Richard

River

Robin

Rook

Rusty

Rye

Sage

Sam

Scout

Sean

Seth

Shale

Shoal

Skimmer

Skyler

Spike

Spruce

Sterling

Stone

Tad

Teak

Thatcher

Thistle

Timber

Tiny

Toadstool

Tobey

Todd

Topher

Torn

Torrey

Vail

Valiant

Vern

Vic

Wedge

Wes

Wren

Wynn

Zak

 Middle

Air

Almond

Apple

Aspen

Autumn

Badger

Bark

Beacon

Bear

Bitter

Brave

Bright

Brisk

Broom

Bumble

Candle

Cedar

Chilly

Citrus

Cloud

Cloudy

Clover

Cocoa

Copper

Cricket

Crow

Cub

Dapple

Dash

Day

Drift

Eagle

Elm

Evening

Falcon

Far

Fern

Fig

Fire

Fleet

Flicker

Foggy

Fox

Frost

Frozen

Funny

Garlic

Green

Hail

Hasty

Hawk

Hickory

Holly

Hurry

Ice

Ivy

Jelly

Jumpy

Lemon

Light

Lightning

Lime

Little

Lock

Lotus

Magic

Mango

Maple

Merry

Misty

Moon

Morning

Moss

Mossy

Mountain

Muddy

Never

Nickel

Night

Nimble

Oak

Orange

Otter

Parsley

Pear

Pebble

Pepper

Pine

Plum

Pollen

Pumpkin

Purple

Quick

Rain

Rainy

Rock

Rumble

Sage

Sandy

Sea

Shy

Silk

Slight

Snow

Sour

Speedy

Spider

Spring

Squall

Star

Storm

Stout

Strong

Sugar

Summer

Sun

Swift

Tangle

Thunder

Tiny

Toad

Tumble

Twisty

Water

Whiffle

Wild

Wind

Winter

Wrinkle

 Last

Beam

Bee

Bell

Berry

Breath

Breeze

Bug

Button

Buzz

Chill

Chime

Cliff

Cloud

Clove

Crash

Curl

Dale

Dance

Dash

Dew

Din

Drop

Dust

Ear

Elbow

Eye

Feather

Field

Fig

Flame

Flap

Flash

Fleck

Flight

Flip

Flipper

Fly

Fog

Foot

Forest

Freeze

Fruit

Garden

Gem

Glade

Glimmer

Glow

Gourd

Grace

Griddlee

Gust

Heart

Hill

Hop

Horn

Hush

Jewel

Knee

Lake

Light

Lock

Loop

Lull

Meadow

Mello

Mint

Mist

Moon

Muddle

Muse

Newt

Noise

Nose

Peal

Pebble

Petal

Pin

Plume

Pond

Pool

Ray

Ripple

River

Roar

Root

Row

Ruckus

Rumble

Sand

Shadow

Sky

Smash

Song

Spark

Sparkle

Sparrow

Speck

Spirit

Splash

Spring

Sprite

Sprout

Stem

Stone

Storm

Stream

Stripe

Swamp

Swirls

Thistle

Thorn

Toad

Tree

Twill

Twist

Vale

Valley

Vine

Weather

Web

Whirl

Whisk

Whisper

Willow

Wind

Wing

Wings

Wink

Wish

[deafmangoes]

Nissa the Basket-Weaver

Before the Big Ones came to the Dale, before we were the Sunflower Folk, and before the languages of the beasts were forgotten, a great and writhing Serpent came to Brundewyn from the high mountains. She was verdant green, with hues of night, and eyes of burning amber. Her body stretched from the Cairns to the Burrows, and her fangs were sharper than any spear.

The Leaf-Wearers, as we were then, were tormented by the Serpent for three seasons. She drove away the birds, she devoured the bush-prey, and she evaded even the mightiest hunters. It was said that even Cuso the Swift could not land a blow on her.

Fox-Snarer employed her most cunning crafts, but though the Serpent was caught, she she'd her skins and slipped away.

Sky-Hunter brought her keen eye to the hunt, but arrow after arrow glanced from the Serpent's scales.

At this time, Nissa the Basket-Weaver lived in the Dale, at the mouth of the Winding and Lively Waters, where he spent his days working the grasses into clothes, tools and homes. He had never joined the hunt, because it was unseemly for a craftsman to spill blood, but after the first season following the serpent's arrival he began weaving a basket wider than the greatest lodge. At first the folk came to marvel at its frame, taller even than the Stag. As time passed and the second season of the Serpent's hunting ended, folk instead came to mock, jeering at Nissa, for he had obviously gone mad.

But when the hunters again returned in failure, and a third season passed, Nissa's madness began to be seen as wisdom.

"He is making a basket-lodge in which we can all hide until the Serpent leaves!" they said, and began to eagerly await its completion. Nissa said nothing, and continued weaving grass until it was hard as stone.

When the cold, deep winter fell on the Dale, it was complete. Nissa lined the great basket with leaves and furs, then moved it by his own strength into the meadows, where frost bit at the long grass, and snow buried the prey-burrows. Once prepared, Nissa sat on the earth before it, and remained with there three days and nights.

You see, Nissa knew the Serpent feared and hated the cold, and he knew that she had followed them from the woods into the meadow. He saw her scales glint in the grass, and her eyes and fangs flash in the night.

On the fourth day, the Serpent emerged, languorous, from the grasses and spoke to Nissa.

"O Leaf-Binder, why do you sit in this meadow, outside your dwelling? The nights are cold, and my prey grows scarce."

Nissa replied, "O Lady of Verdant Scales, I have been foolish, and in my hubris I trapped the warmth of summer in this basket. My lodge have disowned me, and by the skill of my own craft I have woven the lid so tight that I cannot release even a little heat, yet it grows ever colder."

"O Leaf-Binder," the Serpent replied, "have you really caught the summer in your grassy nets? This must be why snow falls and frost rimes my head each morning."

Nissa saw the way the Serpent looked at the basket, and knew his plan was working.

"O Fanged Mistress of the Grass, it is true. My fingers ache from the cold and I fear I will die here. Perhaps you could dislodge the lid for us both? You are strong and your body agile. Then we can share summer's bounty."

"O Leaf-Binder, I am cold and tired, and I desire your basket, yet I will have it alone. Surrender it to me, lest I swallow you whole like the mice that scurry."

Nissa feigned fear for his life, and ran a little ways into the meadow. There he watched as the Serpent knocked the lid from the basket and curled her whole body inside it, cackling at the warmth she had stolen.

Once the last inch of tail was inside, Nissa leapt forward and seized the lid, forcing it down over the basket and using his secret crafts to bind it fast in such a way that it became unbreakable.

The Serpent hissed and writhed and roiled, but it was too late. She was trapped. There Nissa left her until the cold winter froze the meadow and the great basket and it became as rock.

And so Nissa the Basket-Weaver freed the folk from the Serpent - and no one dared to think he was mad, ever again.

[strawberrystreamfields]

Carolina's Journal Log 13:

We'd stayed at the Soul Riders' campsite last night after leaving Guardian's Dale. They were planning to head to Linda's apartment in Jarlaheim today, so I bid them goodbye and Rosedawn and I set out toward New Hillcrest.

A beacon of light was slicing through the otherwise nearly cloudless and unbroken sky, giving us our next destination. Following the beam of light took us up to the old paddock belonging to the Dews. Spread out around the paddock were various livestock animals, including sheep, cows, and donkeys. And of course, Mary. When will she put a fence up? Mary, I swear, please put up a fence. It'll save so much time.

After playing around with the animals for a while, we headed towards the Mirror Marshes. The willow trees were powdered with snow, and the leaves draped on the branches were coated in frost, sending out small sounds whenever the wind would cause them to collide with one another. All of the surrounding plants, stones, and bridges were covered in snow, something that was definitely an odd sight, given the usually green, slightly murky looking of the Mirror Marshes.

We passed through some frozen curtains of willow leaves, the ice brushing against us. For a moment, we stopped to look out around us. The slight wisps of clouds in the sky, the snow-covered marsh, crystal clear water, plants and ferns frosted over, and the water plants frozen, resembling icy stalagmites.

Leaving the last section of the Mirror Marshes, we jumped over a fallen log in the middle of the path, finally making our way up the hill to the town of New Hillcrest. We also happened to nearly crash into some tall grasses in the process.

We stopped to grab some snacks at Jamie Olivetree's café before continuing on our way. Our original destination was the Fort Maria library to do some research, but we veered off course. Instead, we opted to head for the Twilight Temple. Haven't been up there since that Vala, who might have been Sive, chased us after Mrs. Holdsworth lost her research. And Jay. Can't forget Jay.

After we reached the Twilight Temple, we looked out toward the Fort. The tops of the towers were dusted with shimmering white snow, as was the ground on the hilltop surrounding the Fort. The Twilight Temple and its own surroundings looked straight out of a fantasy novel. Could this place be tied to the Vala?

We carefully headed back down the hill before heading toward Fort Maria. Slipping between the pair of boulders that disguised the hidden path into the Fort, Rosedawn and I calmly headed up to the entrance of the tunnel. I dismounted, leading Rosedawn beneath the cover of the tunnel. I gave her some water and a couple of carrots before heading into the library.

After about an hour of sifting through books on Jorvegian myths and legends in the entrance-like area of the library, I headed down into the main section of the library. I wonder how long it would take to read everything here. Nevertheless, I took the staircases down to the lowest level and began looking through the bookcases. I was able to track down a couple more books on myths and legends, settled down in a chair, and started reading.

Putting back the two books I'd been poring over for the last few hours, I headed down into the secret tunnel that had previously been hidden behind a couple of gargantuan bookshelves. The dark, mystical tunnel had an air of magic and mystery about it, the overgrown vines hanging down from the ceiling only adding to the effect. I rounded the corner and gazed down into the main room, straight into the aquamarine-blue portal hovering in the center.

I stepped down the staircase slowly as I entered the temple-like structure hidden within the ancient library. The glowing lotus-like flowers floated in the shallow water as I strode across the stones forming a pathway to the portal. The portal itself looked like it was being held up by a pair of tree limbs. Where could it lead?

[dnd4adults]

Rime of the Frost Maiden

Session Zero: The Last Pyre

On the third day following his demise, a small group gathers outside Bryn Shander’s walls for the funeral of Sir Julys Kaes.

The old knight’s grown children attend, of course – the healer, Myranda Kaes, and Lieutenant Romyn Kaes of Ten-Town Guard – along with members of the household. Sir Julys’ long-time friend and business partner, Barandin Broadbeard, and housekeeper-cook, Saffron Merriweather. Sheriff Markham Southwell trained under Sir Julys in his day, so stands as pallbearer, whilst Mother Mishann braves Frostmaiden’s Breath to officiate. 

Also joining the mourners, an unusual visitor in the community. Not so much for his half-elven features or tailored merchant’s clothes, but the fact that Yule of Termalaine isn’t bundled so tightly as all the others, in heavy furs and woolens, cloaks hoar-crusted and wind-tossed. 

They bid farewell beyond town’s walls because Sir Julys was foreign. Lived more than half his life in Icewind Dale, that’s true, and married a good woman of Bryn Shander, but he also kept traditions out of his homeland, instilling them deep in the children. So, a pyre to send the knight on his way. One big enough for gods in heaven to take notice and carry the great soul on, to his just reward.

A pyre that could heat half the homes in Bryn Shander, if only for one night more.

The cost of so much fuel amounts out to a small fortune, now in their third year under Rime. So, while the ritual they perform isn’t illegal yet, it most certainly will be when feeble daylight returns. Marshall Southwell will make certain of that. If Bryn Shander or any of the Ten Towns guessed what was happening at the base of the hill . . .

But, the pyre will not light. 

The flaming brands Broadbeard and Lieutenant Kaes carry barely keep their flames, lashed by Frostmaiden's Breath. Their feeble flickers can't even ignite the oil. Following numerous frustrated attempts the half-elf steps forward, offering each man a flask of alchemist fire. The very last that he has. With consent from the two Mothers, they step well back step back and throw. RHA-WHOOSH! Searing flame leaps in the heart of the structure. RHA-WHOOSH! Another furious gout, nearer the foot. Alchemy ignites sluggish oil, causing precious timbers to thaw and flash-ignite like a scream! 

Their blaze, brighter than noon’s anemic sun by far, catched the notice of one divinity, at least. The Frostmaiden's shriek breath pauses a moment, drawing ragged breath to wail anew.

❄

Two years? Can't be. Can it?

Yule watched the bigger man approach over snow and ice, crunching each solid step he took. Hoar-crusted or not, Romyn’s heavy cloak snapped in the frigid wind. Frostmaiden's Breath everyone called it now – this endless, icen wailing out of the north. Even with bear furs and twice-knit woolens in place of armor, Yule’s old friend still paced like a soldier; solid, rhythmic, determined. His scowl hadn’t slackened, either.

"You're alive." Likely the greatest expression of pleasure or affection he’d receive in the open, but Yule felt pleased to accept it. He understood perfectly, of course, so half his reply actually came with the smile.

"And, you, as well."

"I'd heard—” Romyn’s scowl deepened “—someone said your folk in Termalaine." The man didn't say what about them, but there was no need anymore. Everyone understood that. 

“Po' and Pol.” Yule sighed after their memories. “There was so much madness early on, I'm surprised word got out at all."

The man before him nodded understanding precisely once. Curt nods came hand-in- hand with that unbreakable scowl these days, it seemed. “Rime.”

Did anyone die of anything else, these days? He glanced ‘round the fur-bundled man, at the pyre. "Your father, as well." That wasn't a question. "I am sorry, Romyn." And, that was his moment, of course – to step close and clasp the other's gloved hand, peer into scowling brown up close. Wrap a familiar arm about broad shoulders and lean in hard, saying without speaking, Of course, you’ll see this through! I’m here. What could possibly stop us? That sentiment wouldn’t be welcome, however. Not here and now, with family and community mere paces away – to mention nothing of an old knight’s spirit hovering over everything to see. 

Yule understood this perfectly, as well. “He – the one who came that next moon, in your place – he said you never returned. I asked specifically, and he said, ‘Dead, or run off if he’s smart.’ I knew it couldn’t be latter, however."

A stern shake of Romyn’s head deepened the scowl. “The ass! I was here that morning." That first the sun didn’t rise, of course, and a gloved hand waved over Yule’s shoulder, back toward the walls of Bryn Shander. "Southwell conscripted my service at once, so I never got back to Easthaven." By that jut of his bearded chin, Southwell was the dark-skinned fellow in full guard regalia tending the pyre with the dwarf. “Yule, I can't say what it means, your—” The man’s voice actually caught in his throat and he couldn't go on, but that was just as well. The women were approaching.

"Soon," he assured. "I'm not going anywhere."

❄

The wake convened in the departed’s home was an anemic affair, at best. Out of all Bryn Shander only those who knew Sir Julys personally troubled to put in appearances, and those mainly for the food and drink, it seemed. Of course, few was better than none, especially under Rime, but it still struck Yule as unpardonable.

“You are Mister Termalaine. Is that right?”

The Blue Lady startled his standing reverie beside a potted fern. Quite tall as her younger brother, the woman wore a dress boldly blue as that ermine-lined cloak beside the pyre. In fact, she rather resembled the Frostmaiden in Yule's opinion – or what he imagined the goddess must look like. All that silver-white hair spilling long and loose about her shoulders, like a girl.

“Only Yule of Termalaine, I’m afraid.” He clasped the offered hand, near white as snow but altogether living and warm. "And, youre Myranda Kaes, as I recall."

The woman waved that away with her shaking hand. “It’s Mother Myr these days.” But, of course, it was. The woman bore the mark of the Great Mother on a delicate silver chain about her neck. Foolish of him, not to have noticed. "I recall Romyn mentioned having a friend in your town, although not the person’s name. Or the fact you’d be unaffiliated with the Guard. I suppose I must have assumed."

Yule nearly laughed at the notion. “I doubt they’d be pleased with a scrawny thing like me. Simply a merchant, I'm afraid.”

“Don’t be." Mother Myr spoke bluntly, not suggesting but directing. “Where would any of us be without merchants, especially in these times? Why window glass, alone! May I ask your specific trade, Mister—?”

“It’s only Yule, please. I'm common as can be.”

“I’d hardly say that's true.”

“Well – comparatively, then. And, my trade is alchemy. Or, it was before . . .” He didn't name the reason aloud trusting this woman, like everyone else, would assume the obvious: Rime.

“Yes, I do recall now. Romyn used to stop here on his way to and from Termalaine. Collecting your . . . something-or-other sparks, was it?”

“Alchemist fire, yes.” For a mature woman she truly was lovely. About forty years of age but entirely charming, effortlessly personable, and curiously intimate without the need for drawing close. “Shipments for the Guard each new moon.”

“Yes, that's it precisely. Thank you.” The woman smiled easily but those blue eyes seemed rather shrewd. “I don’t believe Romyn ever mentioned the manner in which you became acquainted. I’m not referring to Guard business, of course, but your friendship." She didn't say it seemed out of character for her brother but the implication was there, all the same.

Truth be told, she wasn't wrong. “That’s no great mystery, in fact. Po' – that is to say, my Uncle Po' – forgot the Easthaven order. When Romyn arrived to collect it, in fact, it did not exist. I prevailed on his staying with us over the pair of nights required for its distillation.”

Mother Myr reacted as if surprised. One snowy hand landed on her breast with the Great Mother’s mark between thumb and forefinger; almost certainly performance. “How did you manage that?”

Yule offered another polite smile. “I imagine one look at Termalaine’s barracks worked the trick. I’ve heard ours were the worst in all Ten Towns, even before—” Again, he did not name it.

“So, you convinced Romyn Kaes to break stubborn duty and make holiday for once in his life. If I may say so, Yule—”she smiled something like affection, calling him familiar “—that’s more impressive to me than any magical fire.”

“Well, I shouldn’t call it holiday, precisely. He still insisted on rising at dawn, huffing out those calisthenics of his, and availed his services to the Termalaine Guard, should it be needed. As it happened, it wasn't, so Romyn chose to frustrate himself training me, instead."

“Training? I don't understand.”

“Martial practice.” He grinned around that, remembering. “He said I should know how to protect myself – and Po' and Pol, of course – because we couldn't rely on any guardsmen who lived in the scoundrel-manner ours did."

The woman's blue eyes blinked genuine surprise for that. “Those . . . sounds like words from Sir Julys, himself."

"In that case, Mother, you’ll be pleased to know both your men are not only wise but correct. Ours guardhouse fell near the beginning. It was they began looting, in fact.” He sighed, forcing recollection away. “In any event, I didn't make a very good apprentice-warrior.”

Too distracted, in fact.

“I find that hard to believe.” The woman’s gaze grew shrewder, still. “You may not be built for the melee but not every man is. I was given to understand persons of your heritage enjoy natural felicity with the bow.”

That may well have been the politest way Yule had been called half-elf in his life -- and he felt distinctly impressed. “Oh, yes. Romyn tried that, too.”

“And, the result?”

Far too distracting.

“If memory serves, my draw was deemed amateur but he offered no complaints with release.” He cast a smaller smile after that entendre, thankful Romyn, himself, was well across the room – locked in conversation with that formally uniformed fellow from the pyre. Southwell, was it? It appeared a grim conversation, indeed.

“Then, you’ll remain with us in return.” Again, the Blue Lady didn't offer so much as command. “I won’t permit anyone leaving this house under Rime without knowing they've light and warmth waiting at home. And, Termalaine’s much too distant for returning, all in a single long-dark.”

And, no home to return to, in fact.

“In any event,” the woman went on without breaking gaze, “I cannot recall a time in his life when Romyn Kaes spoke of anyone quite the way he has you. So, I shall thank you to remain for his benefit, as well. He’s just lost his father, so a man of companionable confidence is what my brother needs now.”

And there, the Blue Lady did step in familiar-close; near enough for Yule to feel her warmth and breathe the vernal garden of her sachet. “With all his added burden, to mention nothing of worry over Rime, Romyn requires release whether he’s willing to admit it or not.” No mistaking those bold blue eyes, Mother Myr understood entendre perfectly. "I, for one, shall feel pleased beyond words if you’d give the matter your keenest attention."

Did she just--?

He had no time to learn that, however. The Blue Lady turned her silver head and found other sallow figures across the room. She pardoned herself with fingertips pressing Yule's arm then stepped away to speak with others. 

A portrait of the knight painted in his prime hung over the library mantelpiece. Sir Julys’ tall son held ground before a meager fire with a pair of gentlemen-merchants on either hand. Both appeared rather well-fed under Rime in Yule's opinion. He, himself, occupied the chill chamber, as well, but kept to a far end apparently examining its hoard of books.

“A great man.” The fat merchant wheezed whenever he spoke. “Sir Julys trained me, you know, or attempted to, back when I thought to join town guard." Master Too Well-fed laughed over this for some reason. 

The man with the raspy voice joined along, but Romyn did not. 

Raspy said, “Well, Sir Julys did succeed in training my boys, more’s the pity. No fault on your father there, of course. You mustn’t think that. I only mean he trained them too well, didn’t he? Sent off to commands in Caer-Konig and Termalaine, and now I’ll never see either boy again."

So I believe, good Romyn, that your knighted father has now rejoined all those boys he trained over the years, whose passings sadly came before his own. They're all in heaven's mead hall together, boasting of great adventures and even greater loves!" Say it, you consumptive ass!

Raspy coughed and excused himself, instead, so Yule closed Parables and Ponderings with a snap, then softly tucked the volume back on its shelf.

“Now, help to remind me,” Too Well-fed insisted. “Sir Julys came from?”

“Father considered Bryn Shander home. All Ten Towns by extension, of course, but this is where he settled, married, and reared children.”

“Yes, yes. Quite. And, a good thing for us he did, eh? Perhaps your sister recalls?”

Yule snapped another volume closed, having never even glanced at its title.

“ ‘Tisn't so much the where as how, you know,” Raspy insisted. "You’re originally from Dougan’s Hole, but one mightn’t guess that fact to hear you speak today.” A ticklish cugh! “Pardons. Now, my father did know Sir Julys, from back in the day, of course, and he heard all those tales about the dragon battles. That’s the part people remem—” Cugh! “—not—" Cugh! "—not the fact you happened to be born by Mossbank."

Yule gripped a third volume very firmly with both hands, making absolutely certain he did not turn and throw!

“I suspect you’re referring to the Great Tourney at the Gate. Father’s first, at fifteen. He unhorsed a foreign knight calling himself the Amber Dragon, then got his own bell rung by the Pearl Prince a quarter-hour later. Didn’t wake up ‘til the feast was over."

“That’s—” Cugh! “—it? I’m certain there was more than one dragon.”

“Wars are what matter,” Too Well-fed wheezed back. “Tournaments are merely practice, after all. Aren't they, Romyn?”

Address my friend familiar again, you gluttonous—

“Both will take your life when least expected.”

Fortunately, Yule still had his face to books, since he positively beamed. Good blow! Now, keep pressing!

“I was always struck by the fact Sir Julys refused—” Cugh! “—Marshall’s mantle. Not once or twice or three times, but . . . how many was it in the end?”

“I quite disagree.” Too Well-fed, of course. “Who would possibly want the office, with all the troubles that come handed along?”

“Well, that is—” Cugh! “—the point, you realize. My point, in fact, is the nobility of Sir Julys' decision, keeping himself at distance. Not try and turn everything into his own. That's a sure way to gain—”

“Notice.” Romyn’s deep-uttered word hung in chilly library air like an echo without any sound. Yule found himself cocking his head, hearing its ghost ring on . . .

“Well, I was going to say enemies, in fact, but perhaps—” Cugh! “—they are one and the same."

Raspy interruption or not the noiseless echo rang on, still waiting when Romyn took it up it again. “The truth of the matter, gentlemen? My father committed himself to his oath without fail. From the breath he drew, swearing it, until sighing out his last. Never did he falter. Not once. Not in the smallest degree. And, when the hour came for him to prove good as his word or fall . . .” that ghost-echo seemed almost to shout! “I’m not referring to bard-song, gentlemen – nor to poetry scribbled in books!" 

That was a summons and no mistake. Yule turned about smart, attending. 

“He had precisely the same failings as every man – more than you would ever dare guess – but never faltered. In adherence to duty and maintenance of honor, no knight in the world has surpassed him. I doubt one ever shall. I thank you for your condolences, gentlemen. Rest assured, they have been duly noted but now I ask you to depart. This is a household in mourning, after all. Not the great room at the Northlook, for drinking and gossip. Good day, gentlemen. My man, here, will show you out."

And show them out Yule did, stepping up smart as if he'd been waiting for the word to be given all along – which, in retrospect, he was. He pulled on his best merchant’s smile for the elder men, and opened an inviting palm, indicating the open doorway just there. He also made certain to gather up their wives whilst passing through, as that started the others moving, as well. They drifted away in pairs and small clusters like snowflakes tossed in Frostmaiden's Breath; into every direction at once. Yule continued making himself useful in the foyer, assisting the dwarven houseman with lanterns so that each departure ventured into Rime with sure light, at least. When the last had gone the dwarf set about snuffing candles and lamps, conserving precious fuel.

Rime of the Frostmaiden

Though sunlight was lost hours ago, guests of the wake actually depart Kaes Manor before sundown, assuring they'll reach home by suppertime. Saffron's gift assures her the sun sets after they've gone, leaving only the four members of household and Mister Romyn's guest.

The company convenes for supper and conversation in the big stone kitchen. Situated at the heart of the house, its the warmest so has become the center of living under Rime. In fact, most other rooms in the manor have been closed off for a year now, only recently re-opened for the wake.

Myranda introduces Barandin and Saffron, explaining that the dwarf and Sir Julys were traveling companions and business partners for decades, while the halfling joined the household a few years before the Rime. Insofar as the old knight left her everything in his Will, Myr invites everyone present to consider the manor their homes, as well.

Romyn explains that he met Yule during his service with Easthaven Guard. Having need of regular supplies of alchemist fire, he'd been tasked with monthly journeys to Termalaine and the best supplier in the Dale. Yule had been the old gnome's apprentice, now running the business shop, and the pair of them struck up quite a friendship over the year before Rime began.

Yule is grateful for the welcome and offer of home, since he recently blew his own up. The gnomes passed away pretty early under Rime, leaving him to run the place alone. Yule experimented with a notion of infusion gemstones with essence of alchemist fire, hoping to create endless sources of heat and light for people could carry about with ease. He only managed to get the radiance into a diamond, however. The heat went up in explosion, blasting workshop and house apart. He actually came to Bryn Shander hoping to re-open the business in a town with better resources.

Barandin

[libidomechanica]

Ovens and end with eternity

She was the corner of the hall!     Stretched for its mystery. His child of thy utterance,     Christabel, whom at your courting a snowy handsome wee think     is took, and youth grows. For years, his thin, delirious; hearing     always, prays in stealing

of mist and cries, and in a     rock, and put my heart I’ll sing, or strikes then to hear my     oracle of Me and clasp’d my bride to keepe no more authority     falls to records of her hand, which loose than he took     her well as I; but who,

will put in the river as we     passion leaves; Fled is a hands reacherous purpose not to     myself; and in a silken vestments thy finger. And what     lovers, rich gems and passed there to pass you question we wonders     are quaint and in his

only love of father foreheads     globes of unsifted in a wash of reason, shall I only     swelling. Thought, and its dark vault suddenly face for ten     long years as the deserved for not wind the tip of Happiness.     Makes the edge by flowers,

and return the hills round my     papers yellow-green, So I and so goes by and the Tavern     cry, awake, my loved you; and by octobering wind     on glares thro’ the land and beautiful dreamer, quell: I will     lords its steaming Foot shalt

not lovest! Misty dale, and live     and far bright; then let me confess; nor let near that yellow’d     with reverence fleeting- card verse, music fled, here is the     fisherman swore the wind arose from the Temple lost him     so hugely stood upright:

and took the king, ’ he said One whose     pow’ring swallow’d by the Sun did reply as you may have     climber eves. No wise of Honour—well, nor any wished in     Royal Robes, and reaching for the land. Of such dread, yet Faith     wingèd light, over than he

to myself, my breasted Pine, though     now makes you with a meek embrace, her star hath restless love     had no such a rabbit’s force, nor country lass: a charmed Amphion-     oak she seem most I love a newspaper posted onto     the roughly he in

the quarters, and they seem a cuckoo-     song, as they clime had to my sole space I gave off to     the dusk of the Worlds of us—Pish! Till I teach vertue bends     of all thirty years, the generous in this faire: so shall     He that love thee well! Too

many a city for lack on     the Splendour of the World, where I unswear, as near that alone,     and her fair? Remark when though each in hairst, I shure in     his Head, and let thee my possessed outside her place maintaining     her skin on my neck,

her selfe onely Winter-sterued.     Bearing out, and nature or moved through shadow-like life     permit. Let no moment forth of us love beguil’d, a     golden jewels, gifts might and made the zero vector, whiff! Not,     I feel myself, Is he

picked change beyond all about her     spell. So we all fling: the city. I but vainly no small     pale as to walk my love, gaining violets cover, separation     of the hours after than every nerve, just as you     my silence bid me in

forgoing to me was praying     they said: this Counsels, when we can say easily I know     took us a long leave thy power that way; he heavy     stone—and Wit: od’s Life! And watch a full casks are paine to love     her own white with tapers

come upon a world convey’d, since     erst, at there he was the Sun did make Cupid a boy, and     thought I gain turn, forget such frost of all he is a     harmonies of a nameless in Colin only two black rock     in this instant hills? Such

is not answer vague as broke on     a half-science, like a brow. Scatter her head, though it’s     embedded with all them and throughout a Word of Gold! And did     not feels like and slays there Destiny to give you as Ra     knew you loved and to the

other said she belike twelve, I     myself to find out asking, that none like on me, and this     is my part. And to bleed, and sole young head. I’ll go, and, by     Fate, the lofty lady’s shrink away art resent still counts     himself. Round my sole self!

Hast that loss to a dying. And     made up a sweetly blushing undercurrent out thy will     teach true that I am some through shadow in the women     to depart! Yes, I oft into eyes, cold and lamed,—and     then re-mould it nearer

out of that avows, Support me     for aught unholy loiter the gifts. Led forth haste alone     with midnight as widows here? And there shall my faltering     forthwith little, you presume, though and no more modern we     are free. Now will instrument,

First my lab’ring a world was     green, and fast upon his Hand, not loc, Old English ground. Ten     years, instead of a grain of wrath: he stairs in the arches     bring her bosom old, and that right to name of God and heart     has such a framework scarce

beams are exhausted like Alexander,     to wait, one by it, staying it is but figure     to will comes my earth to life, or other near the lady’s     cheek and pity me A barbell or a hypocrite?     Me singing their Vintage!

[reptilianraver]

Urak "Mukluk" Frost-Fang

Hunter Ranger Kobold, Cartographer of Acquistions Incorporated, Icewind Dale division. Probably my longest running character and my favorite.

Urak spent most of his early life as a Sneak-Thief for his tribe, leaving the warren for extended periods of time to steal food and supplies from Ten-Towns. He yearned one day to be a mighty hunter that could catch his own food and pelts rather than having to steal them from others.

He was, unfortunately, press-ganged into joining a group of adventurers named the Red-Claws, who would make Urak do all of the grunt work and punish him heavily for any mistakes (real or perceived) he made.

Eventually he had enough. He waited until they were drunk out in the field (a sadly regular occurrence) and stole the supplies he would need to survive, leaving them to fend for themselves.

He traveled around for two years on his own, surviving off the wilds as he had watched the Red-Claws do previously, until he caught wind that they were hunting him now.

He joined the new Icewind Dale division under the mercenary name Mukluk (since he envied those who could wear boots out in the snow) as a cartographer. He's more than earned his keep through his strong work ethic and skills as both dog-musher and sniper.

I'll definitely do a bit of a write up on some of his gear. I put a lotta love into it.

[compiledrammings]

[Verse 1]

-Begin with wide shot of the Map of icewind dale, with wind blowing over the raised peaks and valleys, giving the impression of the land being below you. Slowly zoom into the tundra

Welcome to the wild, no heroes and villains

-fly-by shot of the icy tundra, past Mammoths, reghed nomad camps, past Revel’s End onto the sea

Welcome to the war we've only begun, so

-Linger onto the Shot of Grimskalle, the fortress on the Sea of moving ice

Pick up your weapon and face it

-Grimskalle dissapears in a flash of obsidian steel, a Duregar Axe

There's blood on the crown; go and take it

-Menacing shot of the Duregar crown, sillouted by the figure of Levistus

You get one shot to make it out alive, so

-Raise up past for the silloute of Ythrin, ancient Netherese floating city buried beneath the glacier.

[Pre-Chorus 1] Higher and higher you chase it

-Rise again to the surface, showing the siblings walking towards the ten towns

It's deep in your bones; go and take it

-Shot of a gnome hand reaching into icy waters to grasp the hilt of dual-bladed sword, coating the water red as it closes

This is your moment, now is your time, so

-Shot of the back of a dragonborn with a bow over his shoulder, walking between two mountains, from springlands into the icy, wintery dale laid out before him.

[Chorus] Prove yourself and

- Party coming together with Dannika

Rise, rise

- Battle against Verbeeg

Make 'em remember you;

- Meeting with Mary!

Rise

- Termaline, battle against the darklurker

Push through hell and

- Battle against the white stag!

Rise, rise

- Ravisin, and how dire that went

They will remember you;

- The Cult of the Black Swords

Rise

- Triumph over the Black Swords.

[Verse 2] Welcome to the climb up, reach for the summit

- Shot of Bunny and Flake climbing Kelvin’s Cairn towards Avetriurice

Visions pray that one false step lead the end, so

- Shot of Maria drowning in blood, finalizing the pact with Maya.

[Pre-Chorus 2]

Higher and higher you chase it

- Bright activating Giant’s Might against the Roc.

It's deep in your blood; go and take it

- Dual shot: Maria, blade in hand in a style similar to Riku from Kingdom Hearts (or obiwan kenobi), blood dripping from both her blade and outstretched hand - Bunny, scarred from flame but surrounded by telekenetically floating bottles that are various stages of ignition in multicolor (think magnesium flame)

This is your moment, take to the skies, go

- Dual shot: Flake with an arrow notched, eyes draconian, spectral dragon surrounding him and his bow like a protective spirit - Bright back to back with him, blade glowing with Giant Runes and sword with lick of flames and frost snaking up it

[Chorus] Prove yourself and

- Bright setting off with the akanathi griffin, dropping out of the picture

Rise, rise

- Flying triumphantly into the sky (even though that’s not strictly what happened), through both the symbols of the Akanathi and Thuunlakaga in the clouds. Eventually obscured by the clouds, which are dissapaited by...

Make 'em remember you;

- Flake roaring amidst the bones of the Thuunlakaga’s dragon

Rise

- Flake standing tall, joining his breath weapon as Avetruirce roars atop kelvin’s cairn, with ice mixing in with the sunset in the storm. The focus eventually becomes the amber sun, which becomes...

Push through hell and

- Shot of Bunny enetering the  in the trials, consumed by fire

Rise, rise

- Picture of her, rising above the fire, eyes rolled back, scarred, but screaming in triumph. Keep rising above the fire, with it eventually becoming the fire of a fireplace, as we see a tavern....

They will remember you;

- Maria, telling stories to Caer Koenig in the tavern {name}, a pile of books around her, till she falls forward into one,

Rise

- Flipping into Maria commanding to the group of speakers, all listening intently as she slams her blade into the table.

[Bridge] So get along, so get along, go Get along-long get a move on up So get along, so get along, go Get along-long get a move on up And as you fight among the death beneath the dirt

- slow Shot of the battle of the duregar underground, arrows flying

(So get along, so get along, go Get along-long get a move on up) Well, do you know yet?

- Slow shot of Maria, flying towards the Chardalyn Dragon

(So get along, so get along, go) Well, do you want it?

- Shot of Bunny with shield up, spraying acid on three duregar

(Get along-long get a move on up) And when the giants call to ask you what you're worth

 - Shot of Bright, using Giant’s Might, greatsword locked with the Duregar King Sunblight

(So get along, so get along, go Get along-long get a move on up) Do you know if?

- Slow shot of Flake, looking at the chardalyn dragon as it shatters the chains holding it

(So get along, so get along, go) Win or die, you'll

- Zoom in on Flake’s face as he lets an arrow loose, as a fireball fills his eye

(Get along-long—)

[Chorus] Prove yourself and

- Shot of bunny building the Netherese device as everyone else is dead

Rise, rise

- Bunny releasing the magic, igniting the sky in a burst of color

Make 'em remember you;

- the group lost in the blizzard, panicking as they are closed in by three coldlight walkers

Rise

- Flake bursting through the blizzard, firing an arrow with the spectral form a dragon, it’s roar dispersing the wind and engulfing the coldlight walkers.

Push through hell and

- Bright fighting against the duregar and coldlight walkers, being obscured

Rise, rise

- Flashes of magic as he invokes the victory rune against them

(Push through, yeah) They will remember you; Rise

reprises from here, roll credits, i guess?

(They will remember you) Prove yourself and Rise, rise (Pick up your weapon and face it) Rise (It's deep in your blood, go and take it) Rise, rise (Higher and higher you chase it) Rise (So get along, so get along, go) Rise, rise

[erosofthepen]

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.�� Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.”  Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia. 

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

[pigeoncoffee]

ultimate single word island names list

as you all know i loved single word town names on new leaf.. whilst ive been brainstorming names for my new horizons island i’ve compiled the ultimate single word island names list!

enjoy!

Ocean/water words: • Brook • Bay • Boat • Canal • Coral • Cove • Creek • Current • Deep • Dock • Drench • Driftwood • Drip • Drain • Gulf • Kelp • Lake • Marine • Pond • Reservoir • River • Rinse • Rill • Rockpool • Sail • Sailboat • Scuba • Spring • Snorkel • Stream • Sea • Seaweed • Seabed • Surf • Swamp • Tarn • Tide • Tidepool • Water • Yacht

Summer/Beach words: • Coast • Conch • Dock • Dune • Harbour • Palmtree • Pier • Summer • Sand • Sandcastle • Shell • Seaside • Shore • Sunburn • Sunscreen • Wharf • Vacation • Voyage

Fish/Aquatic animal words: • Barnacle • Clam • Carp • Crab • Eel • Fin • Flounder • Herring • Limpet • Lobster • Mackerel • Otter • Oyster • Plankton • Salmon • Scallop • Shark • Shrimp • Starfish • Stingray • Squid • Sunfish • Tadpole • Trout

Animal/habitat words: • Antler • Ant • Anthill • Burrow • Bee • Beehive • Bumble • Barn • Bat • Bug • Cobweb • Den • Fleece • Fur • Gull • Hive • Hornet • Honeybee • Ladybug • Ladybird • Nest • Paddock • Raven • Roost • Rook • Seagull • Snail • Toad • Web

Plant/flowers words: • Aloe • Bud • Bamboo • Bloom • Clover • Cosmos • Daffodil • Fern • Heather • Lily • Lilypad • Leaf • Lotus • Orchid • Orchard • Palm • Petal • Primrose • Rose • Stem • Seed • Sprout • Tulip • Wilt • Wilted

Forest words: • Acorn • Birch • Branch • Bramble • Bark • Chestnut • Elm • Elder • Fir • Grove • Juniper • Maple • Oak • Sycamore • Stump • Sap • Sapling • Spruce • Tree • Twig • Thicket • Wood • Yew

Other outdoor words: • Acre • Bury • Barren • Cavern • Cave • Cliff • Coal • Dale • Dell • Earth • Field • Fossil • Garden • Hill • Henge • Hedge • Isle • Island • Lawn • Leaves • Mountain • Meadow • Marsh • Moor • Moss • Nature • Peak • Pebble • Rock • Root • Stone • Shire • Thorn • Uproot • Vale • Valley • Vineyard

Food words: • Avocado • Berry • Butter • Chai • Cider • Cake • Coffee • Coconut • Currant • Egg • Eggshell • Eggnog • Fig • Fudge • Honey • Honeycomb • Icecream • Jam • Jelly • Lemon • Mushroom • Muffin • Mocha • Nut • Pancake • Pear • Pea • Pie • Peanut • Pickle • Popsicle • Radish • Rice • Raisin • Rum • Sesame • Sushi • Syrup • Toast • Walnut

Herb/spices names: • Basil • Chive • Cinnamon • Clove • Dill • Fennel • Herb • Mustard • Nutmeg • Parsley • Saffron • Sage • Spice • thyme

Calm words: • Airy • Away • Awe • Aura • Calm • Drowsy • Dream • Hope • Haven • Haze • Lazy • Lull • Nurture • Quiet • Relax • Rest • Safe • Soft • Serene • Slumber • Silent • Yawn

Cosy Words: • Blanket • Boots • Cotton • Cosy • Cinder • Flannel • Glove • Knit • Knitted • Mitten • Quilt • Raincoat • Sweater • Slipper • Teapot • Teacup • Warmth • Weave • Woven • Yarn

Cute words: • Adore • Blush • Bonny • Cupid • Cuddle • Dainty • Delicate • Ethereal • Fluff • Giggle • Glitter • Lovely • Precious • Sweet • Wonder

City/Town/Building words: • Cabin • Camp • Campsite • Cottage • Home • House • Igloo • Inn • Loft • Mill • Market • Park • Road • Shelter • Street • Tunnel • Tavern • Village • Ville

Weather/time of day words: • Blizzard • Dusk • Dawn • Draft • Drizzle • Downpour • Fog • Flood • Flurry • Gust • Hail • Humid • Mist • Misty • Midnight • Noon • Night • Overcast • Rain • Rainfall • Raindrop • Rainbow • Rise • Storm • Soleil • Sunset • Sun • Season • Sleet • Typhoon • Thunder • Weather • Wind

Seasonal words: Spring/Easter: • April • Crisp • Dew • Dewdrop • Easter • Farm • Farmyard • Floral • Florist • Flourish • Grow • Growth • Hatch • June • Plantpot

Autumn/Halloween: • Afraid • Bale • Bonfire • Cackle • Casket • Creep • Coffin • Costume • Carve • Cemetery • Chilling • Disguise • Eerie • Fall • Fright • Frighten • Firework • Grave • Ghoul • Ghost • Grim • Gore • Hay • Harvest • Howl • Haunt • Haunted • Halloween • Lantern • Morbid • November • Phantom • Rake • Strange • Scream • Scare • Spook • Tomb • Trick • Wicked • Witch • Warlock • Zombie

Winter/Christmas: • Arctic • Chill • Carol • Elf • Festive • Frost • Frostbite • Firewood • Gift • Garland • Holly • Holiday • Ice • Iced • Icy • Icicle • Jingle • Jolly • Merry • Noel • Nativity • Ornament • Present • Reindeer • Rudolph • Scrooge • Sleigh • Snow • Skate • Snowman • Snowball • Stocking • Tinsel • Winter • Wreath • Yule • Yulelog

Mystical words: • Amulet • Cauldron • Chalice • Conjure • Coven • Charm • Cherub • Enchant • Fairy • Fairies • Gargoyle • Goblet • Goblin • Golem • Gnome • Hidden • Hex • Imp • Myth • Nymph • Potion • Spirit • Sprite • Spell • Secret • Shadow • Siren • Wand • Wander

Gem stone words: • Amethyst • Amber • Jasper • Jade • Onyx • Opal • Sapphire • Topaz • Quartz

Colour words: • Bronze • Blush • Fuchsia • Hazel • Ivory • Linen • Ochre • Pale • Peach • Pewter • Sepia • Seafoam • Tawny

Space words: • Aurora • Asteroid • Cosmic • Crescent • Eclipse • Gravity • Luna • Mercury • Meteor • Moon • Nebula • Orbit • Planet • Solar • Star • Venus • Zodiac

Direction words: • Around • Across • Above • East • Far • North • Over • South • Under • West

Other words: • Ash • Ablaze • Beam • Backpack • Dust • Ever • Edge • End • Echo • Cranny • Comb • Frail • Gutter • Hole • Lune • Lush • Letter • Nimble • Nook • Old • Plain • Paper • Rinse • Range • Ridge • Rust • Rusted • Rot • Rotted • Silk • Set • Settle • Sponge • Swelter • Swell • Smog • Urn • Umbrella • Vain • Vile • View • Way • World

[middleearthpixie]

In Time ~ Chapter Twenty-Nine

Summary: The previous events at Erebor and Ravenhill haunt Thorin as the Company reaches Dale and passes the night there…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Amara (female OC)

Characters: Thorin, Amara, the Company, Bard the bowman, Tilda, Sigrid, Baine

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,805

@tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo

The only sounds were that of the wind’s mournful whistle, Bofur’s occasion refrain, Dwalin’s snores, the gentle bump of ice on wood, and the soft creak of timbers as the barge glided across the seemingly endless expanse of the Long Lake. Thorin leaned back against the barge’s side, careful not to jostle Amara too badly as she slept curled against him, her head in his lap, his cloak drawn over her like a blanket. The snow finally stopped, and the last of the frost melted from her hair, which was still damp beneath his fingers as he gently stroked it.

Bard was the only other soul awake. He smothered a yawn as he steered them around the bigger chunks of ice. Nodding to Amara, he said, “She was your healer in Rivendell?”

Thorin nodded, tracing the delicate arch of her right ear with the tip of his forefinger. “She was, yes. Gandalf thought she was best suited to care for us.”

“Not one of Lothlórien’s healers? I should think they would have been even more well-suited.”

“Ordinarily, yes, Lothlórien would have been the better choice, but, according to Gandalf, they had their hands full with the Lady Galadriel and Rivendell was the next logical choice.” He gazed down at her and smiled. “And the best one, as well.”

Bard leaned carefully against the rudder. “It appears so. I only hope this weather is not too harsh for her.”

Thorin worried the same thing, but all he said was, “She is far stronger than she looks. Trust me.”

“Most elves are.”

Silence fell, only to be broken moments later when Bofur broke into the next verse to shatter it. Thorin turned back to the bowman. “I owe you an apology. More than one, possibly, but at least that. I should have honored the promise I made, regardless of the circumstances under which I’d made it. I—I wasn’t myself.”

“Dragon sickness,” Bard said with a nod. “It was bound to happen. That dragon laid claim to your mountain over sixty years ago. That is a long time for it to build.”

“That was part of the Defiler’s plan,” Thorin replied, his fingers moving along Amara’s hair once more. He couldn’t help it. If she was near, he had touch her. Call it second nature or instinct or something similar, but he couldn’t be near her and not touch her. “He knew I’d not be in my right mind. He just did not think I would snap out of it, which, thankfully, I did.”

“And you survived being run through by him, that is nothing short of a miracle.”

“Elf magic.” Thorin smiled down at Amara. “Two Wood Elves were there, at the tower and one had enough kingsfoil to keep us alive long enough to reach Rivendell and Amara is gifted and stubborn.” He glanced back up. “And she would say the same about me, without the gifted part, of course.”

Bard shrugged. “She sees something.”

“I don’t know exactly what that something is, though.”

“I used to wonder the same thing about my wife. In the end, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she sees it, even if you don’t. Don’t argue it. Just accept it.”

Thorin chuckled, which seemed to surprise the bowman, but he ignored Bard’s rather shocked look. “That advice can be applied in so many situations.”

“We should reach the dock by dawn,” Bard said. “You should try to sleep, if you can. No offense, but you look as if you could use it.”

“I’m fine.” Thorin turned to stare out across the water. He wouldn’t have been able to tell water from horizon, were it not for the chunks of ice drifting across the surface. They helped dissolve the illusion of the world having no end, and their pattern kept changing, which did much to keep him occupied and awake, for sleeping was the last thing he wished to do.

For the last several nights, dreams plagued his sleep. At first, they were mildly disturbing, flashes of the battle with Azog. But, then those flashes stretched, became far more vivid, and he woke breathless and sweating, the scars on his belly aching as if freshly inflicted. He blamed the nightmares on Mirkwood, on the thick, oppressive atmosphere of the dark enchantments that draped through the trees like a dark moss. But, the last thing he wanted was to have a nightmare there, in view of everyone, including the bowman. With any luck, now that they were free of Mirkwood, his sleep would once again became restful, and he would push through until they were in Erebor, just in case it didn’t.

So, there he sat, eyes burning and heavy with fatigue, and it was only through stubborn will that he managed to keep them open. Amara slept on, her shivering slowing, then ceasing altogether, her warmth sinking into his thigh. Every now and again, she sighed in her sleep, snuggling against him as if he was a pillow. He’d let his fingers skim along her hair until she went quiet.

Finally, the first light of dawn broke across the sky, the pale beams bouncing across the water’s surface to sting his already-exhausted eyes. One by one, the dwarves all sat up, yawned, stretched, and looked about as if they’d forgotten where they were and why they were there.

Amara stirred, lifting her head to squint up at him. “Where are we?”

“Still on the water.” He smiled as she rubbed one eye. “Dale is just off in the distance, we’ll be there soon.”

She sat up, letting his cloak slip from her shoulders to pool about her hips. The wind lifted her now-dry hair to toss about her face and she rubbed that same eye again as she murmured, “I feel as if I slept for a week.”

With that, she lowered her hand to smile at him. “You make a very comfortable pillow.”

“At least I’m good for something.” He caught his cloak by the top to lift it and placed it back about her shoulders. “It’s still far colder than what you’re used to.”

She sighed softly, leaning against him once more. “Did you get any sleep? I mean no offense, but you look almost ragged.”

“I did not. I was keeping the bowman company.”

“That must have been something.”

“I threw myself on my sword, so to speak, and apologized for my actions the last time we met.”

“What did you do, the last time the two of you met?”

He hesitated. “Nothing I am proud of.”

“Thorin.” She craned her neck to peer up at him. “It wasn’t you.”

“You keep saying that, but it was me.” He gazed out over the water. The shore had come into view, bleak and deserted, littered with giant rocks, shards of wood, and general litter, both battle-related and not. The city of Dale rose from the barrenness, its outer buildings faced with scaffolding now, with workmen the size of ants at various levels from rooftop to second story. The last time he’d seen Dale, it was abandoned, destroyed by Smaug, with crumbling stone structures left blackened by dragon’s fire. Remnants of the lives that once made the city a bustling center of trade were all that remained—broken pottery, scorched toys, tattered draperies fluttering in glassless windows—they all spoke of the lives that had been upended by the dragon’s arrival.

At one time, Erebor had done a healthy trade with Dale, and he’d often been in and out of the city on business for his father, his grandfather. At Yule, both cities celebrated together. It was one of the few times dwarves and Man associated freely. More than once, he found himself the object of a pretty girl’s fancy, which he didn’t always mind so much. A kiss here. A touch or two there. Sometimes it went beyond that, but he had to be careful, lest he found himself with an angry father or brother demanding he marry said daughter or sister.

Once, he’d come close to capitulating. Her name was Eloisa and she was the daughter of Dale’s master. He fancied himself in love with her and although his father warned nothing could ever come of it, that he would never offer his blessing to a union of the future King Under the Mountain and a daughter of Man, Thorin pursued her anyway. Eloisa was beautiful, with thick blonde hair and eyes the color of the summer sky at night, and she had a way of making him feel as if he was already a king.

Until the Yule before Smaug came, when he’d overheard her laughing with her friends about the foolish dwarf prince who thought himself good enough for her, how the only reason she saw him was because she loved the idea of becoming a queen.

And like that, he was alone once more, isolated from everything above ground just as always. A new lesson in trusting anyone other than dwarves had been learned in a most painful way.

“Thorin?”

Amara’s hand on his shoulder jarred him back into the present and he rubbed both eyes with one hand. “I beg your pardon, but I am so very tired.”

“You should sleep then,” she told him.

“I’m fine.”

She brought that hand to his cheek, curving against him. “You look absolutely worn out.”

He covered her hand with his. “I’m fine. I swear it.”

She didn’t look convinced, but let the matter drop as Bard said, “We should be there within the hour. The docks appear fairly quiet.”

Thorin carefully untangled himself from Amara, bent to press a kiss into the top of her head, and moved to the bow of the barge. There were several other ships already moored at the harbor in the distance. “Does Dale do much trade now?”

Bard nodded. “It does, actually. As we rebuild, the need for necessities has grown, of course, and merchants have been very willing to work with us, although now,” he met Thorin’s gaze easily, “we won’t have to rely on them extending credit. That is,” he added, “if you mean to keep your word this time.”

The bowman had every right in the world to question Thorin’s integrity, but that didn’t mean his dwarvish pride didn’t take a hit. His eyes narrowed of their own as he growled, “I fully intend to, yes.”

“Good. That will put many minds at ease in the coming days.”

Thorin didn’t reply, but turned his attention to the land before them. His gut churned for the first time since leaving Rivendell, and the scars on his belly burned as they had when he first began therapy. He would rather run himself through with the Orcrist than admit it, but the thought of returning to Erebor made him uncomfortable. What if he fell prey to the dragon sickness again? It lay heavily in his mind, since Erebor would be in the same condition it had been in the last time he was there. The treasure hoard of Thrór would still be there, still tainted from being Smaug’s home for so many years.

And what had become of the Arkenstone? The last time he saw it, was when Bard held it up at the gates of Erebor in an attempt to bargain with the Mad King Under the Mountain. The Mad King who refuse to see reason and chose war over peace.

He winced, rubbing his forehead with one hand. Perhaps returning was not so wise. Perhaps he should have remained in Rivendell.

“Yer quiet this morning.” Dwalin’s low voice floated over his right shoulder as his lieutenant leaned against the barge’s side alongside him. “Did ye sleep at all last eve?”

“I managed a few minutes here, a few there. I was more concerned with keeping Amara warm. She shivered most of the night.”

Dwalin cast a look over his shoulder and Thorin followed his motion, smiling as his gaze alit on Amara. She sat sideways on the plank, arms folded on the barge’s side, his cloak sill about her shoulders, her gaze affixed somewhere behind them. The pure morning light danced along her hair, made even curlier by the dampness in the air. It was a glorious morning, with crystal blue skies and sunlight splashing across the lake’s surface. The air held a hint of snow, so he wondered if clouds would come along to blot out the blue overhead as the day went on.

“She looks fine to me.”

“She is now.” Thorin turned back to Dwalin. “The sun is up and it’s warmer. But, this climate is not one she is accustomed to.”

“Ye should try to sleep.”

“So everyone suggests.” The harbor loomed larger now, the water a bit rougher as two other boats made their way from it. “But I will sleep when we reach Erebor.”

“That’s still another day day of travel, Thorin. Ye canna stay awake the entire time.” Dwalin leaned closer. “Why are ye avoiding sleep?”

“I am avoiding nothing,” he retorted, resisting the urge to rub his eyes again. It didn’t help, anyway, for they burned even worse with each passing hour.

“If ye say so.”

“I do say so.”

Balin joined them. “Is something matter?”

“I am impatient to reach Erebor,” Thorin snapped, turning to shove past both of them and returned to his space alongside Amara. He sank onto the plank, leaning back against the side with a low sigh. His eyes slid shut of their own and he had no will to fight them. The lake’s gentle rhythm forced his body to betray his will, carrying him off in sleep’s arms to places he never wished to see again.

Cold seeped into him. The wind whipped his hair this way and that. The ice seemed to rise and fall beneath his feet. It did rise and fall beneath his feet, lifted by the current and returned as it passed.

Azog the Defiler towered above him—pale and ugly and scarred as he swung his flail. Thorin leaped back, leaning as far away from the weapon as his spine would allow. It struck the ice, the vibration thundering up Thorin’s legs. Azog swung again, and again, and Thorin dodged each one. Each time the flail hit the ice, the flow cracked and too late, Azog realized his mistake.

Calmer than he’d ever been before, Thorin stared the massive orc down and stepped backward. The ice floe created by Azog’s flail tilted from the orc’s weight and with a splash, Azog hit the water, pulled beneath the surface by the weight of his flail. After what seemed like an eternity, the pale orc stared up from the depths, eyes dull and empty.

Thorin drew in a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. It was over. The orc paid for what he’d done to Fili.

A firebolt tore through his foot and he jerked his head down to see the blade protruding up from his boot.

“Ah!” Thorin snapped upright, wincing at the burn in his neck, second only to the one in his lower belly. His heart hammered his ribs, his pulse thundered through his head, but fortunately, no one seemed to hear his gasp.

“Thorin?” Amara’s hand came to rest on his shoulder as he leaned forward, trying to control his rapid breathing. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I pulled a muscle in my neck, is all.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“Turn,” she told him.

“Amara, I—“

“Please?”

He bit back an annoyed sigh and did as she instructed. A sharp sting tore through his neck, down his spine, as her hands tightened about the sore muscle in question. Just as she’d done before, her fingers worked the knots free and he couldn’t help his low growl of approval.

The barge bumped the slip and Bard said, “We’ve arrived.”

Thorin leaned into Amara as he murmured, “Thank you, amrâlimê.”

“You are absolutely welcome.” She rose onto her knees, draped her arms about his shoulders, and leaned to press a kiss into his cheek. “Are you certain you’re all right? You sat up so very quickly.”

“I’m fine. Just anxious to go home.”

“How far from Erebor are we?”

“Roughly a day’s travel over those hills.” He fought the urge to groan at the thought of remaining awake for another full day. He could do it, but he’d be a miserable beast by the time they reached Erebor.

His scars still ached, but he tried to ignore it as the bowman guide them into a slip and Thorin got up to help him secure the barge. Keeping busy was the best way to make any pain, any sleepiness, disappear, and at the moment, Thorin needed a respite from both.

[dndeed]

Crit Role Miniature Rollout: C2E132

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and review of the minis used on CR.

This ep was neat and all. But next ep, that’s what I’m really interested in! I’ve played in sessions like this before, where you are anticipating a particular plot point and fully expecting it to occur that session. But then the game’s progress gets held up by a less story-crucial encounter. On the one hand, the resource management aspect of dealing with encounters such as climbing and this random undead giant encounter is admittedly interesting. BUT- I’m really chomping at the bit for the encounter with the Tomb Takers! Let’s go, can’t we just auto-battle this frost giant fight?

Always with the polymorph, it’s time for Crit Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 2 Episode 132!

The List

Chest and Trove 5E Condition Rings

Mats by Mars: Frozen Lake Tabletop Wargaming Play Mat 

Dwarven Forge Ice Wall Packs

Dwarven Forge Caverns Banks

Dwarven Forge Castle Stone Stairs

Dwarven Forge Stalagmites

Monster Fight Club Rock Hills

Crown of Fangs Dressing: Totem

Steamforged Mighty Nein Miniatures

Eldritch Foundry Essek Painted by Iron Tusk Painting

Hirst Arts Ruined Fieldstone structures

Monster Menagerie 3 #031 Frost Giant (Axe)

Storm King's Thunder #029a Frost Giant (Sword)

Icewind Dale Rime of the Frostmaiden #045 Frost Giant Skeleton

Unknown Frog

The Terrain

I like the starting positions of this combat. So many encounters start with the monsters on one side of the map, the PCs on the other side, then the movement and fighting plays out sorta predictably as both groups spend the first couple turns moving towards one another and then standing in place and slogging it out. I appreciate a fight that starts with all members of the battle right on top of each other and with the adventurers right up against an impassable wall. Quite refreshing.

The Giants

Big Frosty Monster Menagerie 3 #031 Frost Giant (Axe) Mini photo sourced from minisgallery.com

The pose is about all I like about this undead giant. Reminds me of an arcade fighting game idle animation. So what did this giant die of? Probably having too tight a helmet. The proportions this dude are really bizarre, his head is way too small. And he’s got these weird lookin’ long Gumby legs. Not good. 

Production and design wise, it’s pretty clear the 3D modeler just copy pasted the shoulder pad skull, flipped it 180° and clocked out for the day. Like, where did this giant find two perfectly identical outfit-accessorizing skulls? Did he happen to fight a pair of dragon twins? 

What can be said for this figure is that it is indeed giant. It looks very imposing on the map next to the PC miniatures. The scale of this model definitely works for the overall look of this combat encounter.

Cranky Father Time Icewind Dale Rime of the Frostmaiden #045 Frost Giant Skeleton Mini photo sourced from minisgallery.com

Skeleton miniatures run the risk of looking stiff and uh, well, lifeless. But this model has a very animated pose. I like it very much. The hanging fur clothing even has a billowing sort of effect to it. You can imagine the howling northern winds whistling through the hollow skeletal frame of this towering undead. It’s great. What’s not great is the amount of money this model is currently commanding online. $50 minimum at the time of posting. Probably better off taking your chances with the boosters and hoping you draw one of these. Or wait until an unpainted version is probably released down the line.

Valkyrie With Serious Drip Storm King's Thunder #029a Frost Giant (Sword) Mini photo sourced from minisgallery.com

Look at all these hot frost giant fashion drops. THREE dragon skulls? The swag level is off the charts! I enjoy this frost giant’s outfit, but same problem as the other Storm King’s Thunder Frost Giant, too symmetrical, very unnatural looking. At least the proportions of this giant gal aren’t so outta whack. The hat is a little silly, but she wears it with such fashion confidence. Very impressive. I couldn’t pull it off, that’s for sure. 

Closing Thoughts and Predictions

Seems like next ep should definitely involve a battle with the Takers of the Tombs. I’m interested to see how the antimagic black light zone is identified on the mat. Presumably with spell templates? We shall see. Sure to be a regular battle royale!

#critroleminiaturerollout

[stabyouth]

𓊔﹒𓌹 𓂃 𓌺   “𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃, 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻!” he shoots between a gap in a copse of wilted pines like a bullet, hot on her wayward trail. his voice, panicked, carries down the slope of the valley as his sneakers nearly skitter out from underneath him, hitching momentarily on a thick patch of verglas below the downy surface of the mountain’s edge dale. he nears her toppled body, arm outstretched to rest easily upon her arm, quickly dusting a layer of snow off the back of her full head of vibrant pink, far too sonorous against the achromic winter landscape. if she weren’t so bright he might’ve lost sight of her, and then where would they be? buried under three feet of snow, probably. thank god he’s only a little high.

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐮𝐳?” he's quieter now that he’s close enough to grab her by the scruff of her jacket, pull her up and out of the slush like a child. julie would kill him were he to return her concussed; he’s worried that she might’ve hit her head on a rock during her tumble. she’s been looking off into the distance for a while, and it isn’t as if there’s much to see other than ... his gaze finally wanders away from her, fixing itself languidly〈 his legs are so cold in his threadbare jeans that they nearly feel frozen together, and a crust of frost has glued itself to his eyelashes with such ferocity that even as he curls his fingers and wipes at his lids they remain rimed 〉upon a building now only partially obscured by a billow of tumbling snowflakes caught in a zephyr, standing tall & imposingly dilapidated in the near distance. he feels a smile tug at wind-bit cheeks. for once, he knows this place, a little piece of ormond's history lost to the gallows of time.  “– 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 ... 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?”   🔪  @wiredsmile​ ❤︎’d