Medallion of Thrór
Posted: Fri Sep 16, 2022 11:59 am
Thrór pressed the map into Thráin’s hand along with the silver key and heavy ring.
Keep these safe, he said as he closed Thráin’s hand tightly around the treasures, safe above all else for from these our people shall rise again.
But Father Thráin protested, if something should happen to us the map is worthless without the talisman.
Thrór pulled the oval talisman out from his tunic and turned it over in his hand rubbing his thumb over the sunstone and the runes carved into it.
Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole
He smiled at his son as he tucked the medallion back into his tunic and chuckling took the map back. He spread it on a nearby bench and pointed to a blank space on the map.
‘Moon letters?’ whispered Thráin. Thrór nodded. ‘But what moon? What night?’
A midsummer’s eve, in a crescent moon, said Thrór.
Thráin’s face hardened… The night of dragonfall….
What son of Durin could sleep on the anniversary of our devastation? shrugged Thrór. Worry not my son, the runes will be read and the way will be found, with or without the talisman.
This one treasure I will take with me, a reminder on my travels of all that we have lost and all that we hope to one day hold again.
Keep these safe, he said as he closed Thráin’s hand tightly around the treasures, safe above all else for from these our people shall rise again.
But Father Thráin protested, if something should happen to us the map is worthless without the talisman.
Thrór pulled the oval talisman out from his tunic and turned it over in his hand rubbing his thumb over the sunstone and the runes carved into it.
Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's day will shine upon the keyhole
He smiled at his son as he tucked the medallion back into his tunic and chuckling took the map back. He spread it on a nearby bench and pointed to a blank space on the map.
‘Moon letters?’ whispered Thráin. Thrór nodded. ‘But what moon? What night?’
A midsummer’s eve, in a crescent moon, said Thrór.
Thráin’s face hardened… The night of dragonfall….
What son of Durin could sleep on the anniversary of our devastation? shrugged Thrór. Worry not my son, the runes will be read and the way will be found, with or without the talisman.
This one treasure I will take with me, a reminder on my travels of all that we have lost and all that we hope to one day hold again.