Walking by the madmans tune

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Tolkien

of

y/o
©
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Satchel

of

7 y/o large Male
©


He hadn't meant to come here.


Not at first at least. After his run in with Maui he was reluctant to linger to far north, for despite the chill of the lands he could still taste the fire that the god had cast upon him. Curious indeed to think he could anger a god so. But what was he then, if not a heretic? He moved stiffly upon the frozen waste, breathing deep everything he could never have. A slow calculation, reluctant still to claim the birthright that was his as a Mundane.

He stumbled upon falls entirely by accident, halting swift as he inhaled the harsh cold air. Watching in admiration as the mighty water thundered before him, and it was a wonder that anything could ever humble him so. Taking a few steps closer to the edge, he cast a gaze down at his murky reflection. An odd sort of shiver as he took in it's distortion, finding it slightly ironic that it mirrored his insides so perfect. Only his molten gaze showed true, the eyes of a ghost peeking up from depths unknown.

He might not of noticed her if not for the birds. Noticing a flutter of a shadow he wretched his attention away from the water and watched curiously as the ravens settled. Then he thought it was another god, for she was a pale as him with a glorious splash of her own feathers. However something felt different here. Shifting his position so he now faced her general direction, he decided to call out. Because not much else could be lost at this point anyway. “ I see I'm not the only thing haunting this place, dear phantom. “ a general neutrality to his tone, despite the curiosity that plagued him. Not bothering to hold his breath, reclining slightly as the situation began to unfold.

“ It is best not to be so angry friend, “






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