Aeron curled himself on the cold ground with his knees to his chin and his arms clamped around his legs. The air was so cold, but he didn't want to get a blanket. Who cared if it was cold? The seasons came, the seasons went....soon it would be warm again.
He heaved a sigh and watched with morbid satsifaction his foggy breath waft over the grass like dragon smoke.
Dragons...there was a ring with a silver dragon somewhere back in their hovel. Eyes of emerald...scales of ruby. It had been Gwyllion's favourite.
Gwyllion....he scrunched himself into a tighter ball.
Gwyllion was dead.
He curled tighter, and let the tears fall quietly.
Last edited by Imladris; 11-11-2004 at 07:46 PM.
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