The Ancient Warrior's Tale
Prologue
My great uncle was an old man at the time of my birth. Now that I am grown to adulthood he is older still. He says that he stopped counting the winters of his life when their number reached one hundred.
Some say my uncle is too stubborn to leave this world. Others say he is cursed with such longevity. But to me each day with him is a blessing.
Although age has stolen his strength, dimmed his sight and turned his hair to silver, my uncle's wits remain razor sharp. The countless adventures he has experienced are fresh in his memory. His faded blue eyes sparkle with excitement when he speaks of a past filled with glory and danger.
My great uncle's house contains mementoes of a full and prosperous life. Those items dearest to him are kept in his private chambers. Few have seen these treasures. But I have had the privilege to examine each one closely. I have tried to piece together the puzzle of their meaning through the stories I have come to love.
A wooden bow carved with ancient runic symbols, a well worn lute, a horse's bridle, a magic sword and a large scale from a white wyrm hang upon the walls. Placed with care atop the polished wood of my uncle's desk there rests a pair of worn archer gloves, a faded red ribbon, a blue feathered hat, a magic silver ring and a dented helmet of pure gold.
My earliest childhood memories are of the tales my great uncle told as the family gathered before the hearth. His words painted vivid scenes in my mind of a time long past. Their images capture my young heart and to this day he is my one true hero.
So it is because of this life long affection for my aged knight that I put pen to parchment and try to breathe life into the ancient warrior's tale.
Lady Faelyn Rose
Prologue
My great uncle was an old man at the time of my birth. Now that I am grown to adulthood he is older still. He says that he stopped counting the winters of his life when their number reached one hundred.
Some say my uncle is too stubborn to leave this world. Others say he is cursed with such longevity. But to me each day with him is a blessing.
Although age has stolen his strength, dimmed his sight and turned his hair to silver, my uncle's wits remain razor sharp. The countless adventures he has experienced are fresh in his memory. His faded blue eyes sparkle with excitement when he speaks of a past filled with glory and danger.
My great uncle's house contains mementoes of a full and prosperous life. Those items dearest to him are kept in his private chambers. Few have seen these treasures. But I have had the privilege to examine each one closely. I have tried to piece together the puzzle of their meaning through the stories I have come to love.
A wooden bow carved with ancient runic symbols, a well worn lute, a horse's bridle, a magic sword and a large scale from a white wyrm hang upon the walls. Placed with care atop the polished wood of my uncle's desk there rests a pair of worn archer gloves, a faded red ribbon, a blue feathered hat, a magic silver ring and a dented helmet of pure gold.
My earliest childhood memories are of the tales my great uncle told as the family gathered before the hearth. His words painted vivid scenes in my mind of a time long past. Their images capture my young heart and to this day he is my one true hero.
So it is because of this life long affection for my aged knight that I put pen to parchment and try to breathe life into the ancient warrior's tale.
Lady Faelyn Rose