Let us tell you a tale.
≈ VI ≈
v. The Quest For Hearthstone
Haeredion stepped into the glade toward the stone, and had he not known better, he would have sworn he had smelled bread baking for a moment. Then the scent left him with just the crisp dryness of the leaves passing his nose.
He stepped forward and felt the warmth of the flame reaching out toward him, carrying with it the warm sweetness of the rolled beeswax candles his mother made and burned back home. Haeredion kept moving toward the stone until he was right beside it. He set down his empty pack and perched himself upon a log near the wonderful warmth of the enchanting stone.
His eyes swam in the flames, contained within the stone like a world unto itself. The scents kept passing by him before disappearing again, sweet fruit stewed with spices, coffee, pepper, tobacco from his father’s pipe.
He hadn’t noticed his hand reaching for his pack until his fingers touched something soft and warm. He looked down and moved aside the cloth wrapping around what turned out to be a loaf of deep brown rye bread.