Winters in Westridge were notorious for being severe, and this year was no exception. The sky deposited a snow that was measured in feet rather than inches, and the cold wind blew constantly off the ocean in the West, sending a freeze across the land that seldom offered any forgiveness.
Nevertheless, the people of Westridge were accustomed to such winters and were well-prepared long before the first flakes fell. The palace had the normal drafts for such an enormous structure, but it was keep warm by the fires which were fed by a substantial quantity of logs that were cut, split and piled high outside in seemingly endless rows beneath long canopies.
Lord Gavilean enjoyed the time of being ?snowed in? at Arda Palace. He spent the working hours taking care of kingdom business; presiding over state and council meetings, signing documents, and putting in the necessary appearances at banquets, awards dinners, the hospital, and the other functions where his presence was either required or appreciated.
His free time was always spent with his beloved wife and darling daughter. To be a good husband and father was his ultimate priority, and something that he didn?t take lightly.
It was during a time of watching Des feed Princess Gwenilb?th that it once again dawned upon him that there was a good chance that the only one mortal within the room was his wife. She would grow old and grey and die, and he would still look the same. Furthermore, she would miss centuries of events within her daughter?s life ? grandchildren and great grandchildren, and generations beyond that. Such an awareness made his heart heavy and brought to the forefront the priority of an attempt at having her body accept the lifespan of the Elven.
Gav?s father, Thorin Starfare, was the only one he knew to have accomplished this, but it occurred during the days when the High Elves were great in number in the land, and when magic was far stronger than it is now. Even at that time it was risky and required the greatest magic available.
Gavilean had consulted with the Archmage, Thulin Nell, and the news wasn?t promising. The only possibility was the magic of the King and Queen of the Fae, and the only time they could be found was the once-in-a-century celebration of the Spring Equinox, deep within the Death Woods of Westridge. That was the ?good news?.
The ?bad news? was that this was the year. There were no portals that went to the Death Woods, and no easy road to take a coach. The journey in the midst of winter would be difficult for the strongest of men, and Des had only just recovered from child birth. She would have to leave Princess Gwenilb?th in the care of their staff and travel a long and dangerous journey. Yet, if they did not make the journey, she wouldn?t get another chance. Gav would see the next celebration and look little older than he did now, but Des would have already grown old and died at least a score of years earlier.
It had to be this year, or quite literally for her ? never.
Nevertheless, the people of Westridge were accustomed to such winters and were well-prepared long before the first flakes fell. The palace had the normal drafts for such an enormous structure, but it was keep warm by the fires which were fed by a substantial quantity of logs that were cut, split and piled high outside in seemingly endless rows beneath long canopies.
Lord Gavilean enjoyed the time of being ?snowed in? at Arda Palace. He spent the working hours taking care of kingdom business; presiding over state and council meetings, signing documents, and putting in the necessary appearances at banquets, awards dinners, the hospital, and the other functions where his presence was either required or appreciated.
His free time was always spent with his beloved wife and darling daughter. To be a good husband and father was his ultimate priority, and something that he didn?t take lightly.
It was during a time of watching Des feed Princess Gwenilb?th that it once again dawned upon him that there was a good chance that the only one mortal within the room was his wife. She would grow old and grey and die, and he would still look the same. Furthermore, she would miss centuries of events within her daughter?s life ? grandchildren and great grandchildren, and generations beyond that. Such an awareness made his heart heavy and brought to the forefront the priority of an attempt at having her body accept the lifespan of the Elven.
Gav?s father, Thorin Starfare, was the only one he knew to have accomplished this, but it occurred during the days when the High Elves were great in number in the land, and when magic was far stronger than it is now. Even at that time it was risky and required the greatest magic available.
Gavilean had consulted with the Archmage, Thulin Nell, and the news wasn?t promising. The only possibility was the magic of the King and Queen of the Fae, and the only time they could be found was the once-in-a-century celebration of the Spring Equinox, deep within the Death Woods of Westridge. That was the ?good news?.
The ?bad news? was that this was the year. There were no portals that went to the Death Woods, and no easy road to take a coach. The journey in the midst of winter would be difficult for the strongest of men, and Des had only just recovered from child birth. She would have to leave Princess Gwenilb?th in the care of their staff and travel a long and dangerous journey. Yet, if they did not make the journey, she wouldn?t get another chance. Gav would see the next celebration and look little older than he did now, but Des would have already grown old and died at least a score of years earlier.
It had to be this year, or quite literally for her ? never.