Post by anduinlothar on Apr 7, 2008 9:45:15 GMT -5
Birds. That is what was always heard out in the gardens of Golden Horn Castle. They always would sing, their songs so sweet and comforting. that even those whose hearts were weighed heavily with sadness could find a measure of comfort with the melodic tunes of the birds.
But this day, there indeed was a person out in the gardens. A knight it was, by the make of his armor, silver and blue plate mail. A long blue cape flowed down from large shoulder pauldrons. The knight had taken off his Great Helm, and set it down beside him on one of the many stone benches that had been placed in the garden.
Anduin had been out there for some time, having brought out with him over aa half dozen books, all on different subjects, those being politics, philosophy, two spellbooks, a lengthy tome on strategic warfare, and the final one was about shamanistic traditions and spells.
Anduin had made this a daily ritual of his, coming out to the gardens each day, each time bringing out with him another set of books. The knight was making an effort to learn as much as he could, both about his new home, and ways to defend it.
It had been quite quiet in the gardens, besides the constant singing of the birds, the sun shining down through the trees. a warm breeze causing the branches to sway, as though moving to an invisible rhythm. As Anduin sat out here, alone, he hoped for some company, though he was content with his reading.
But this day, there indeed was a person out in the gardens. A knight it was, by the make of his armor, silver and blue plate mail. A long blue cape flowed down from large shoulder pauldrons. The knight had taken off his Great Helm, and set it down beside him on one of the many stone benches that had been placed in the garden.
Anduin had been out there for some time, having brought out with him over aa half dozen books, all on different subjects, those being politics, philosophy, two spellbooks, a lengthy tome on strategic warfare, and the final one was about shamanistic traditions and spells.
Anduin had made this a daily ritual of his, coming out to the gardens each day, each time bringing out with him another set of books. The knight was making an effort to learn as much as he could, both about his new home, and ways to defend it.
It had been quite quiet in the gardens, besides the constant singing of the birds, the sun shining down through the trees. a warm breeze causing the branches to sway, as though moving to an invisible rhythm. As Anduin sat out here, alone, he hoped for some company, though he was content with his reading.