Far from Home

The following morning was peculiar compared to the others as of late, for neither man woke until the sun was well into the sky. Gomerick was first and took the opportunity to splash his face in the cool lake. Leaning down, his reflection revealed a different man than the one whom had left Enghor. His beard had grown substantially, as he had not had the opportunity to groom it in a rather lengthy period; his eyes had a distant look about them, keener to the constantly changing environment, and revealing a mind more sound; his body had been weathered, frequently weighed down by the physical burdens that accompanied their journey. It appeared the only thing that had remained the same were his tough, callused hands that never seemed to get a break from their smithing days. It was these hands that Gomerick cupped and submerged into the refreshing water. As he washed away the dried sweat he had accumulated during the night, he was overcome with a rejuvenating sensation that woke him from the sluggish morning. The water trickled down around him, and, looking into the lake’s wrinkles, Oberon’s reflection appeared above him…

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