DIM - Compendium II - LP COLORED

A mournful wail shadowed his fevered dreams and he awoke to find the fire was almost out. It was just before dawn, the coldest and darkest hour of the night when those who sleep unsheltered crave the light and warmth of morning above all else. With a bit of coaxing his fire rallied and the icy night retreated. He missed his warm bed and the valley inns he knew so well. How could he ever enjoy their comfort again? How could he forget the horror of that fetid cave where he languished in pitch and stupor under her vengeful, screeching howls? How could he forget, for even a moment, the creeping death that filled his mouth and lungs? A killing shudder ran through him. But just then, the first hue of morning broke above the far horizon and his heart lifted. He remembered his adventures among the barrowfolk who welcomed him as one of their own and sheltered him when the snows came. He remembered the sacred solitude of the deep forest where green cathedrals of light overwhelmed his senses and gratitude overflowed from deep within him. Dawn now flooded the eastern sky and morning broke over the land. His camp, atop a sacred hillock crowned by a ruined henge now came alive with the birds of morning flitting among the stones. He would return to the valley inns he loved so, but not this day and not for many days hence, for his mission now gleamed across those shimmering straights to the east. For there, in the hallowed halls of that high place he would learn the songs of great men and their exploits whose legends live in the lilting strains of his roadworn instruments.