Trying out Tolkien Part IX


Still trying to figure out what I want to end game to be, but at the moment, I’m loving writing about these 3 (so fun). Tell me if it’s terrible, please, I’d love to know ^.^ Bitte und Danke!

Description: Hungover, the wizard, thief and arms-master go a-travelling

The next morning was painful. Beyond that even, it was a struggle for all three men. Having drunk themselves to their hearts content last night to honor the late Arms-Master, they slept little and so felt every ache and pain from the night before.

“Good God” Ipsil groaned, “Is a world ever meant to be so painful, I don’t even remember consuming the amount of alcohol necessary to do this harm to my body”

“I think that is, old friend, because you drank too much to remember” Voe laughed at Paaren’s dry response,

“Indeed Ipsil” he added in, “I have vague recollections of you pushing more and more glasses of something strong last night. But you drank more than the two of us.”

Paaren let out a laugh,

“I haven’t drank that much since the days of old.”

“Neither have I” Ipsil said, passing a hand over his burning forehead, “At least I can heal us. Give me a moment”

“Please, don’t spare it” Paaren said, his eyes riveted on the wizard,

Saying something quietly underneath his breath, Ipsil directed a ball of energy towards the two of them and then at himself. It collided with their foreheads and each man felt it eat away at the weariness and pained limbs that they were fraught with.

“Ipsil, you’re the best wizard of them all” Voe declared, clapping a hand on his friends back, “But on we must go”

“As we swore” Paaren said solemnly, “Whatever else happened last night, I do not forgot a promise, especially when it is made to a friend like you”

They set on throughout the day, packing up everything needed and stocking up on supplies. Now that Ipsil and Paaren had located Voe, there really was no need to use the ruse of a caravan. After all, the Society of Speech had their own ways of travelling. It was in this spirit then, that they rose to meet the dusk.

As the three watched the sky turn to a strange playground of clouds of all sizes, the sky turned to that pink and yellow hue.

“There’s our cue” Ipsil said, and with a jostle, they walked up to him and all held hands.

The wizard began chanting softly, words in a different languages known only to him while the thief and the master assassin watched in awe. It never got old. His voice rose and fell like waves of a river, like the whistling of the wind as it catches on the top of a mountain. And they felt themselves getting lighter and lighter, the whispers of his voice catching onto a tailwind. All that was left of them was wind now, the sounds of speech and thoughts mixed together with the low humming of nature’s wind.

The experience watched them lifted from the ground and transformed into a gas so thin that it acted like a magnet, attracting anything and everything that came near it. Soon they were flying, drifting out and over fields of lavender and mountains of snow. Voe was never sure for how long the experience lasted, and this time was no exception. You could get lost in the whispers and hums, the sounds that blended together like some kind of symphony made only for a special few. And he did, letting the air wrap around him and carry him on to his destination.

Suddenly he was standing, together with his friends at the opening to a cave.

“Here we are” Ipsil said officially, “Our headquarters, onward and onward then”

“We didn’t all lose our memories here, Ipsil” Paaren said crossly, “I think I know my own home when I see it”

Voe laughed lightly as the thief pushed past him and into the cave, the one brighter on the inside.

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