The Sword Of A'Shinth'ea'h'x'g'e

Help me write a fantasy! If you're anything like most contemporary fantasy writers, you'll be able to easily help me make this a cliché....

   The darkness had come early, and any light that should have made its way through the front windows would have been turned back by first the snow which had been piling for days, and then the shutters which the gale force wind had long ago turned in on themselves.  It was if the world had been sent back into its primordial days, like pedestrians pushed back in their paces by oncoming royalty, that long breathless wait for something to happen that was to be entirely unexpected.

Errol Dreef had waited it out with patience.  Because he was a halfling, or as some called him, a hobbit, he had drummed his little fingers on the table, while the others had given him stern glances knowing that to take their eyes off of him would amount to trouble beyond its worth.  








The End

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