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The Mythology of Beardsgaard ~ VI ~ The Quest For Hearthstone ~ .vii

Posted on December 05 2016

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≈ VI ≈

vii. The Quest For Hearthstone

Before he had even torn a piece off the loaf, his rumbling belly quieted and filled. He was warm. The log felt softer than logs have any business being. A quiet thought passed through his head that his father was surely nearby.

Haeredion decided he would just wait here, his father would return shortly, and then together they would head home. Easy as pie. Or rye bread. Just head inside, mother was waiting. He sipped at the cool mug of ale on the upended log next to him, and packed a pipe of tobacco. He was quite looking forward to the stewed fruits for desert.

Morning broke, dim and grey as it always was here. A doormouse popped its head out between a hollow in the ruined stones. Its eyes blinked wide and it scurried over near the quietly flickering orb to snatch the few crumbs that scattered the ground. It slurped up drops of the bitter but somehow delicious wetness spilt on a flat stone.

The tiny rodent peeked into the hardcloth sack that had been left tipped over on the ground, and found a few more crumbs. Satisfied that it had just started off the day in an excellent manner, the doormouse scampered back to its hole in the wall, ate a few crumbs, tucked some away for later, and fell fast asleep.

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