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Old 11-17-2006, 01:51 PM   #26
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
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Join Date: May 2005
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Tora was standing outside her house, her eyes fixed on some unseen point somewhere in the distance. Her expresion was thoughtful, sad even. She wished she had something to do, something to take her mind off her thoughts. There were days when she would do nothing but work from morning until night, when she would sink into the blessed oblivion of sleep. And then there would be no time to think or to remember who she was and where she was living and in what times.

She would often hear the people talking about the troubles that they had, about the things that happened in the world outside their settlement, and she could very well realise that things were not quite right, that the world was unsafe and that something perilous was stiring. And then there were the two Elves that had arived that morning. Why were they there? No one knew clearly, or else they would not tell, not even to themselves. Some foretold great changes, yet what kind of changes? It was too much to hope that they were to be for the better. In a world like this? How could they be?

Yet it was not only the sudden intrest of the Elves in their small settlement that bothered Tora. Nor was she only troubled by the fact that things were going bad in the world. There were other things too, that clouded her mind, things that were threatening to break the composure that she had had for so long.

Tora was well known for the way she handled things. Whatever had happened to her, she had always been calm and resigned, an attitude that made many admire her. She never complained. She never wept or cursed fate shaking her fist at the merciless sky. Her way of behaving seemed grand to some, the way she seemed to be defying fate's decissions.

Yet was it really bravery and defiance what she was doing? To her it sometimes seemed that she was merely protecting herself from life's sorrows. It was easier to grind your teeth and accept destiny's ways, if only openly. It was always easier to pretend that if the world did not care much of your story then neither do you. There was nothing to admire in such attitude. It was nothing more than an act of defence against sorrow and madness.
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