Tales of Gildor

Gildor's eyes were sore and gritty from the lack of sleep from being on sentry duty all night. He limped across the walkway of the curtain wall towards the northeast tower. He stopped halfway, peering over the top of the battlements as the sun began to rise above the encircling hilltops of the Coldruins. He sighed as he propped his spear and shield against the wall while he looked across the beautiful valley.

A hoarse, screaming kee-eeeee-arr from a passing hawk got his attention. He squinted as he looked up as a Gold-Tailed Hawk banked in a circle around the hilltops before disappearing in the distance.

Gildor stroked his chin and smiled as he gathered his weapons and limped off towards the tower. As he made his way through the doorway, he bumped into a guard.

"Watch where your walking." The guard growled as he pushed past Gildor. "Why don't you wood spites go where you belong."

"What is your problem?" growled Gildor.

"Ever since you're homeland was conquered. Your kin has done nothing to take back your kingdom." argued the guard as he left the tower.

Gildor huffed and stormed off down the spiral steps as he walked through the doorway; he slammed the door behind him. After he took his armour off, he pressed his hands into his lower back and sat on the edge of his bed.