Chapitre 5: Chapter Five
You really want not dig yourself with stresses?
Vilyánur and Meneldir jogged the old,
greenery ridden, plant covered way, passing
among ladies and stone monuments of stone,
through multitudes of fireflies and timberland honey bees,
until finally they arrived at a clearing: a youthful,
treeless knoll under the overhangs of senior
trees, a shut room of wood and wax.
A minute stream cleared by the trees,
flickering as though weighed down with jewels,
scattering the weak sunbeams into rainbows,
unnumbered greenery ridden logs lay around
which might have filled in as seats, the
grass was delicate and smooth as the fur of a
wolf
little guy.
"Are you sure we're concealed here?" asked Vil. 1
"Absolutely sure," answered Meneldir, "we
are in Anya's Home - captivated by my
incredible grandma, Anya the Fair, to be
disguised from the eyes of everything except the individuals who
have a good nature loaded up with adoration."
"So we both have good natures loaded up with adoration?"
pondered Vil, "I thought the inverse."
Meneldir snickered. "This is the spot she and
incredible granddad used to come when they
needed to stow away from the individuals who might have adored
to see them isolated. I frequently come here to stow away
from my entourage, going through extended periods of time composing
verse and tune, perusing legends of old
legends."
"You sure have great information on stowing away
spots," said Vil, "...always sneaking in the shadows."
"Yet, is that not why you like me?" inquired
Meneldir, getting off his pony.
"That is one of the many reasons I like you,"
answered Vil happily, getting off his
horse. Vil glanced back at Mey as he looked
at him. The dale immortal and ever-enduring
invited them, the entire timberland quieted
as the two investigated each other's eyes,
approaching each other with a sluggish speed. The two
jumped at one another like lions, embracing
with a grin not seen upon their countenances for a
century. "Gracious, Mey, I missed you so much," Vil
said with tears in his eyes.
"You were just away for like a year or somewhere in the vicinity," said
Mey, "did you miss me that much?"
Vil kissed Mey on his temple, "two
hundred years of knowing one another and
no acknowledgment, and just a year at obligation and I
understood "
"Acknowledged what?" asked Mey.
"N-nothing," Vil become flushed, "so tell me: what did
I miss? Did all that in your dale remain
unaltered?"
"I wouldn't agree that that," said Meneldir, floating
into his recollections. "Essentially your uncle was
savvy to the point of blocking the foe while
they were currently at their powerless; we rather confronted
the immediate fury in our vales."
"Essentially you didn't need to work in the desert
for an entire year," Vil giggled to some degree frightfully.
Mey measured his hand on Vil's cheek, attempting to
experience his intensity. "Still as lovely as I recall,"
he said, "however I sense a ton of exhaustion inside
you."
"Definitely, well. I worked long and hard in fruitless
squanders, with only a cloth turban
among me and the searing sun."
"Essentially you're protected," said Mey, drawing his
make a beeline for contact his cheek to Vil's, as it were
to have him raise his head high, his seven
inches refusing contact, lost in his own
mind. Mey gave him a humble grimace, climbing
up on him.
Vil got him and whirled him around.
"Gracious, goodness, Mey, you've gotten heavier, or
perhaps I'm lighter than previously."
"Surely the last option, I can feel your bones.
Short on provisions, would you say you were not?"
"Indeed, as you might be aware... cold deserts are
not the most ideal spot for scrounging."
"Ooh..." Mey embraced him profoundly,
dropping a leg to the ground to ease on the
weight, "...look how gravely they treated my
closest companion, you merit an extended rest, confidant."
"Well," Vil gazed absentmindedly into the
clear, practically lost. "Some muscle was not the
just thing I lost on the mission," he said, practically murmuring.
"What?" asked Mey, drawing Vil's head
towards himself, their noses contacting.
"Gracious, nothing," said Vil, "just, uh . . . reviewing...
enough about me, recount to me your story. What
happened while I was away?"
Mey moved down and maneuvered Vil onto the
delicate lush soil. "As you wish," Mey leaned back
back, loosening up his voice.
"Tell me, Ruler Vilyánur, do you are aware of the Lay
of Lammoch? For that is the way our story went,
or on the other hand rather the way that it would've been had he fizzled.
My dad in his crazy neurosis to cleanse
the place that is known for destruction mongers and backstabbers
debilitated our realm so incredibly, and afterward
the daemons showed up.
Ere you chasten your dog
for yapping at an outsider,
first you should ensure
there is no such a risk.
So yes, I surmise he had not as a primary concern that
proverb. Assuming that I say my dad the lord likes to
have his consultants reverberation it to him, then there
can be no more prominent untruth articulated from my mouth."
Vil giggled. "Dislike I can fault him altogether,
mass frenzy can be risky all things considered. It is
an appalling undertaking to get your country into, and even
uglier is the result."
"Try not to be concerned," said Mey, "the story
has a blissful completion, albeit the cost
we paid was weighty. Furthermore, the most horrendously awful thing is, I
couldn't say whether he just overlooked the issues or
wanted to deal with them covertly."
"The last option wouldn't be excessively unusual for
somebody as clever as him."
"I know, Lord Arvedui can be a shadowy figure
now and again, deciding not to uncover his arrangements
to the public except if totally vital,
not even to his most believed it appears. Yet
whatever, essentially he saved a considerable number of
lives."
"All things considered, I get it's all well then; you didn't lose
anybody near you, did you?"
"No, I dislike I even have anybody with the exception of
you, I suppose that is the beneficial thing about being
as single as I'm."
"I'm happy," Vil grinned. "Be that as it may, I wonder: did you
get excessively forlorn without me? Provided that this is true, I can't
show the lament I feel for that."
"Dislike you had anything to do," said Mey,
"in any case, might you want to let me know what
you did indeed?"
Vil peered down, as though battling inside. He did indeed
not answer to Mey, as though he didn't need
to tell. There was torment in his eyes, and Mey's
had concern.
"I mean," said Mey, "in the event that you don't wish to tell, it is okay, I comprehend."
"No, I can... I just... it's a piece convoluted."
"Vil," Mey grinned, "from what I've known about
you: there's nothing about you that is not
logical, particularly not on the off chance that you make sense of it the
way you do."
Vilyánur attracted a full breath, "it was simply
that I got to encounter what a normal
legionnaire feels, and might I at any point say it was pretty
1
overpowering, if spending a year in barrens
was not. Would it be advisable for me I say in the expressions of my
companion Murphy:
Goodness, assemble 'round me, tune in while I talk
of the triumph whose organic products we didn't procure;
tormenting my fantasies, still there as I rest
are recollections: of where damnation is six feet down.
Ok indeed, I actually miss him," Vil murmured,
covering his eyes, murmuring something dull
furthermore, threatening softly, unintelligible yet
stinking of torture and torment.
"I get it," Meneldir contacted his temple
to Vil's, "I know the sensation of wistfulness, it is
terrible. Just when you lose something is
at the point when you understand it's actual worth."
Vil's grin blurred and went to a deadpan
articulation, he was not irate yet not blissful
with it either, practically in a killjoy state.
"Would it be a good idea for us to bring currently back?"
Mey felt frustrated about some explanation, "indeed, certain."
"Do you know where they ought to be?"
addressed Vilyánur.
"I know precisely where they ought to be, don't
stress," Mey answered. "I got the fragrance just
as the breeze moved: they're generally a portion of a mile
away from us."
"Your feeling of smell is that strong?" Vil
checked out at him in dismay.
"Nah, simply kidding," Mey chuckled, "I can detect
their airs. However, what would it be advisable for us to tell them?
We unquestionably can't say we were gone to ... . eh,
you understand."
"Let them know we were gone following a path of
bedlam energies, that would quiet them down."
"Great," said Mey, prodding his pony
towards the aroma.
For Mey's wilderness horse, crossing the unpleasant
woods landscape was no trouble. However, for Vil's
weighty pony - a horse implied for plain fields,
such a street was a bad dream. "Simple, kid," he
attempted to control his pony, yet with little use.
"Pfft... homegrown creatures," Mey laughed at
him. "Strolling would be a superior predicament."
"They're not implied for woodlands," Vil replied,
"yet, you perceived how well they did in fight."
"Obviously, I didn't say they're futile, simply in
this case," Mey said.
Vil disregarded him, realizing he sat around aimlessly
about it, rather turning his ear to the woodland
to notice to the hints of the woodland all things being equal
1
far somewhere out there he could hear bizarre
prattle, they were his knights, he made no
botch.
"Wary!" a wood-mythical person reported, as
Mey heard through the forest. "I hear sounds;
nock your bows, champions."
"Falter, warriors!" hollered Mey out of the dark,
"you could shoot your own sovereign, will you?"
The warriors brought down their bows and lances.
"Goodness, it's the sovereign, the ruler is back!"
"Without a doubt," Vil said in a reprimanding tone, showing up
out of the thick shrubberies like a phantom, "and
provided that you had a superior feeling of air, you'd
have remained with us all through the excursion.
Argh... also, here you say you're utilized to
backwoods lands."
"Excuse us, my ruler," the wood-mythical beings said ever
so submissively, aside from Nixior. "So what happens next?"
"Nothing," said Vilyánur, "the dangers that
worked the land are essentially gone, the wolves you
were pursuing are dead as well, I accept?"
"Indeed, we killed them all," said a high-mythical person knight,
"that is three passings, two (or actually one)
misfortunes: wolf and tracker."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone