Chapter One
The day was bright and sunny. Perin watched the young man tie the fletching to the arrow.
“Very good, Morgan. That is work to be proud of. But at your speed, you’ll be my age when you get a quiver full.”
“When I’m your age, I’ll have fletched enough arrows for an army, each as perfect as this one!” Morgan laughed.
Perin grunted at the playful disrespect
Of all the generations of the Fletcher men, Morgan reminded Perin of his great-grandfather the most. Just like Jared, he was full of happiness, and duty.
“Thank you, Jared.” He whispered. A day did not pass that Perin didn’t think of his adopted father in thanks and memory.
Perin stood, and watched out of the workshop. He looked on the small field, full of vegetables, and the trees beyond. The house and farm were still hidden, after all these years. Perin breathed the sweet air, and walked to the fruit trees. He knew that Morgan would be done soon, and they would go into town to sell the arrows. Like he always did, with Morgan’s father, his grandfather, and with Jared. It was a good life. It was a peaceful life.
He looked in on it from the outside, a stranger in his own home.
He looked up at the sun, and cursed the season. The peace was coming to an end, as it did every year.
He had some time to spend, so he walked to the small pond. He knelt in the circle, and closed his eyes. Hours later, he breathed his way out of the mediation. Perin frowned. He was still restless, uneasy. He could not still the emotions filling him. He moved back to the house, to his room. In this sanctuary, he opened the chest. Holding the bundle, he felt a calm wrap him.
Shaking his head, he cursed under his breath.
He sought peace, looked for it as one would for treasure.
It eluded him, always. Only when preparing for violence, did he feel the peace he wanted. Sometimes he wondered why he tried.
“Peace is in you, child.” He remembered Jared’s loving tones. “Open your heart.”
Those words burned Perin’s eyes. It was two days after they were spoken that terror struck the farm.
Morgan’s voice called out in the afternoon, announcing lunch. After they ate, the two would pack for their journey. At the fair, they would sell the arrows that Morgan had made.
Perin would meet with the sell-swords, the mercenaries, and find a new cause to fight for. Winter was coming, and his killing-season was here.
The scar traveling down his face burned, with a ghost pain. The pain resided in memory, and it kept him warm at night. He knew that it was flush with blood, slightly red against his skin. The scar marred the elven beauty he was born with.
Perin felt that it suited him better.
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The RudeDawg
Known in these Forgotten Realms as Perin LightEyes