Let us tell you a tale.
≈ VI ≈
ii. The Quest For Hearthstone
After he had traveled the south and east, Haeredion set out north through the massive mountain ranges of Nidavellir, and eventually close to Jotunheim, before he was turned back as much by the brutal cold and hard terrain that he had not prepared for adequately as because of the fact that his father’s yearly homecoming was nigh.
So he returned to his village, but when he did, his father had not yet. So he and his mother waited, for days, then weeks that stretched into months. The previous year, Haeredion’s father had told him of the northwestern forests of the elves that seemed to go on forever, and of the wild northern reaches where even the elves and animals were scarce.
These forests were cold and dark, but no matter the time of year, summer never came, nor did winter or spring. Instead they rested in a bleak waning autumn, sprouting leaves and grasses that were new one moment before coming ablaze with color, and returning to crisp, dry browns again and falling. The forests there in the far northwest of the realm held mysteries, indeed, and Haeredion’s father had intended to reveal them. Or at least map them.
Whether he had been distracted, waylaid, hurt or killed along the way, Haeredion and his mother had no way to know, and very likely no way to find him in the uncharted lands he was hard bent to chart. So it was not precisely in search of his father that Haeredion left home that spring, but to continue the journey.
Perhaps he would find his father along the way, but Haeredion’s mother had long prepared them both for the possibility that the man would not return from one of his adventures. More than anything, Haeredion burned to find the edge of the map and peek beyond it. He wanted to see the ends of the earth.