Andarin: The Mountains: courage; --

horse stock by colourize @ deviantArt ; photomanipulation by Lore

“ Death is the only god that comes when you call. ”
- Roger Zelazny

I live for myself.

There are still nights… days… dreams… when I need to remind myself of that. That no one – no one – has any right over me. That it doesn’t matter, because I, I stand alone. That I will not fear and I will not fall and I will not surrender.

Nights. Nights when my mind is full of reds and grays, when I am alone and in peace. Days, nights, nightmares, dreams.

Funny that right when I find respite from the dark, there’s someone else to haunt me instead.

So they are, I feel myself shrugging, because it’s not in the least due to me that they are as they are. The mountains are their own: the wolves, their own creatures. I have no delusions; I am a mere figurehead, the point around which they rally. My presence here is as irrelevant as the motion of the clouds high above. But if they want me still, well, so be it. At least, so I would like to believe.

Ah, how demure. It’s sick, really – sick in so many ways. Here’s Courage, who I know only barely but know so much about, courtesy of my trade: mother, lover, hunter. Mm. I wonder, at times, what kind of mare she is – she is everything I am not, after all. But the winds – my voice, they continue without even a conscious thought. And how does Solira, Courage? A sad little affair, the one with your queen…

It was my daughter who brought her here. The Stormcrow.

But somehow, I have a feeling it’ll be the other, the one who is not my heir, the spare, who will break Solira in half.

Dark times are coming, methinks.

I’m ready.

I just hope, for her own sake, that she is as well.

FENRISULFR
an axe age, a sword age, shields will be cloven;
a wind age, a wolf age, ere the world sinks.