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[Langois]

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A cool wind blew through the lands slightly passed Stonegate valley. The wind was always brought a chill with it in these parts. Though it was outside the town itself, the wind was still enough to chill a man straight to his bones. Wooden shutters rustled against the window pane as the frosty air crept into the dark second story room, pushing the thick fur blanket the rest of the way from Langois' bed.

The man in bed was just a shell with his mind held captive in dream. He appeared to be a young fellow, judging by the skin around his eyelids. However, he had long blonde hair and a beard that hung far below his face. A toss now and then, followed by him rolling over seemed to be the pattern of his slumber with a groan or sigh here and there. Propped on the nightstand beside the bed was a long, sinuously curved silver blade that seemed to hum eerily as the dreamer slept.

***

Son, what have you done!? A tall, male elf, with platinum hair, and icy, piercing blue eyes exclaimed in a deep voice. It was not me father, I swear it was the blade! Wept the younger version of the father.

It is like the blade has a mind of its own, it speaks to me, please do not let mother know! Tears, like a river, flown freely from the young elf's eyes, as he told the tale to his father. Moments that seemed like a lifetime drug on. The father's eyes judging without compassion, as he listened to his son.

WHAWP... WHAWP... WHAWP...

Everything fades to black and all that remains are frantic voices. Why did you do that!? The father's voice resonates. He's been tainted, we need to be rid of him and that blade! Said a voice near identical to the young blood stained elf.

The voice continued, He will have shamed our whole family, we need to be rid of him, the blade and that bloody merchant's wagon! I'll take care of this father, just please, don't let mother know. Lie to her just, do not let her know what's become of Langois.

Very well then, just be quick about it son..

***

Sweat, cold sweat beaded on the forehead of the young man as he sat up in bed. Quickly he reached over to the nightstand, as soon as he grasped the sword in his hand he threw it at the plaster wall, the blade a flash in the dark room.

TWACK

The sword struck deeply into the wall. The young blonde man walked to the wooden shutters and looked silently out into the night. Time slowed to a near halt as he gazed out the window. Slowly he turned and returned to his bed. Pulling the covers up to his waist, before laying back down to bed a few words betrayed the silence, "Good night Bonedeath..."