Am I not fortunate, sitting in the forge chamber at Salamandastron? The fire is wel banked up–I feel its warmth al around me, whilst I gaze out over our western shores at the sea. What an awesome sight, the vast deeps, on a moonlit winter night. Mountainous waves take on a silver sheen, powerful and mysterious as they thunder in from beyond the horizon.
Headlong, they crash in cascades of foaming spray upon the shore. Chuckling darkly over pebbles, and hissing secrets to the silent sands, as they are drawn back into the depths of boundless water.
Nature, my friend, beautiful and fearsome, a hypnotic force few can resist. Goodness, how one’s mind can wander, merely sitting here looking out from the forge room window. I must get back to writing my Chronicle.
It is a tale of several fates, each with its own destiny. Since I arrived at this mountain, I have set myself a pleasurable duty. From my own recol ections, and information gathered from friends, both old and young, I recently put quil to parchment and began this Chronicle. Mayhaps when the story is final y told, my young daughter wil enjoy reading it. I hope you wil , too, my friend. Wel , it starts like this …
