The sounds of the night's revelry still sing in my head. The bard's skilful playing, the passionate dancers, the skilful performers, the glowing bride and groom. It served me well to be in the midst of heroes, exchanging tales of valour, feasting the night away with meat and ale.Ah! It has been ages since I've attended a festival such as this. Life on the road with my master has been harsh. What manner of a dwarf can be seperated from his meat and ale for such extended periods of time? Alas, I am honour bound to serve my master, Christian Aisling, a newly fledged Paladin from the order of Helm. As such, these pleasures of life come far and between. It was with much pursuasion from the bridegroom before my master agreed to grace their marital festivities. My master lives an austere life, prefering to spend his time with his incessant research on his faith, spending hours praying to this Helm whom he serves. Bah!!! I reckon what he needs is a good mug of ale and some hearty tavern wenches to loosen up his sorrysome self. "He's wound up too tight", as Grandma would say.
Fate, however, has decreed that I owe him a boon. For it was he, who risked his honour and reputation when he stood up and took me in: I was destined for the gallows after I killed the group of snivelling hypocritical priests who showed him scantily any respect in a fit of anger. Perhaps, it would be a good thing to stay with this man after all, for he has taught me, with his infinite patience and prayers, to curb and control the frenetic blood-lust I enter when I am provoked.
It seems that we have a meeting with the Queen mother tommorow evening to discuss a plan in lieu of the recent increased orcish activities which has affected trade considerably. Perhaps, it would be wise of me to retire for the night.
By Moradin,
Thorin Axefist
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