~ Not a Dream ~ Lord of the Rings based story

[Lunaestrella]

This is a sort of fanfic, but nearly all characters are ones that I have invented. I combined Middle Earth and its people with one of my ideas for a book. It is in Middle Earth, a few years after the War of the Ring . Some characters that appear in this fanfic are from the books, but most aren't. If you aren't happy with how I have written about them, then don't read this! Comments and criticism are very apreciated, as I am trying to improve constantly. I know it may not be very well written, but please just don't be rude, and feel free to give me ideas to improve it, I will always listen unless you are rude.I can't think of a better title. If you have an idea, please tell me. Happy reading!

~ Not a Dream ~

Old Henry was sitting in his boat, smoking a long pipe. Every now and again, he would blow a smoke ring, that sailed up in to the morning sky and finally disappear, leaving only the dawn to show in front of him.. The man grumbled, throwing his fishing line over the side. There were few fish in the lake at this time of year, and he had many children to feed. Besides, all the fishermen were starving, and it was nearly the only job that one could have in Esgaroth.
Henry shivered and looked up at the reddish sky. The last stars were disappearing, and huge grey clouds sailed low above him, showing that there would be rain in the next few hours. He grumbled again, wrapping himself tight in an old brown blanket. The man shut his eyes for a moment, breathing in the cold air. He yawned slightly and felt himself dozing off, and smiled, not caring that the boat was drifting down the current, towards the legendary skeleton of Smaug.
The fisherman awoke when something suddenly bumped in to the boat, jolting him awake. He shook his head wearily and yawned as he picked up his pipe, without noticing where he was.
Henry let out a gasp of surprise and dropped the pipe again when he looked around him. Quickly, he picked up the oars, and began paddling away as fast as he could. He was on an island in the middle of the lake, the island where the dragon had fallen. For the men of Esgaroth, it was haunted, and none dared to come near the place. Still, the bones of Smaug could be seen from the town, and it scared children and adults alike.
When he was a few metres away, the man put down the oars, gasping for breath.
'Well that was silly!' he thought to himself, shaking his head and smiling.
He was about to continue, when something caught his attention. Between all the rubble on the island, there could be seen a faint glint of silver. Now that was not normal, and Henry decided to investigate.
'What if it is money? I could well do with that!' he thought, imagining all the beer he could buy with it.
When the man finally reached the island, he stood up in the boat, that wobbled a few times before he gained his balance again. Henry peered over to where he could see the glow, and gasped with happiness. Yes, it was metal.
He paddled over to it, and was about to reach out his hand when he suddenly realized that it was not just any old metal. It had carvings in it, and was, in fact, elvish. The man smiled greedily and reached his hands towards the gleaming treasure.
“Why is it so heavy?!” His eyes widened as he realized why. It was not just metal. It was armour, and inside it, there was a three or four year old boy, completely wet. Henry was about to drop it, but thought better and placed the little boy in his boat. Was he dead? The fisherman looked. No, he was breathing, but very slightly. He took the armour off him and hid it very well under some nets, then, he wrapped the child up in some old blankets and made his way as fast as he could to Esgaroth. This boy needed medicine, and he couldn't let him die.

Before long he had reached the town, left the elvish armour somewhere safe and was walking towards his house, carrying the boy. Henry could not figure out why that child was there, nor how he could come. The fisherman had a rather simple mind, and did not even think once about the possibility that the child could be an elf.
When he reached the small hut, his children came out to greet him, jumping up and hanging on to his legs.
“Daddy, whuts that?” One asked.
“Nothing, Harry. Now let me go in to the house, I need to speak with mummy” He made his way hastily towards the door, shutting it behind him. The room was illuminated by a dim red light from the fire, and he suddenly stopped, wondering how he would tell his wife that he had found this boy.
“Any fish?” the woman's voice was heard before he could utter a word.
“Um... well... you see...” Henry stammered
“What do you mean? You didn't fish anything?” she cried, turning around from where she was. “And what is that?”
“Well... you see... um... Sophie, dear, I found something else in the lake today”
“Oh, and is it a pile of gold?!” she said, upset.
“No... umm... its a... its a boy. I found him half drowned.
“What?!” Sophie screamed“No, Henry! We have five children and ourselves to feed! Finding him has done no good! Look at Lucy! She is too skinny! We cannot have another child in this home! What you need to find is fish, not kids!”she began weeping, making Henry feel awful.
“There there” he said, putting his hands over her shoulder “He does not have to stay here, darling. I'm sure his parents are close, and if not many people will have him. All I would like you to do is heal this poor chap. He is very wet, and half dead!”
Sophie nodded and wiped her tears away, picking the boy up and placing him near the fire. She gathered some blankets and hot water and began working. Henry went out to supposedly deal with the children (and in the meanwhile sold the armour to a traveller who paid him a good deal of money for it).
Sophie was up all night, caring for the boy. Every now and again he would cough, but didn't wake up till about midnight. The woman was half asleep on the chair when a sudden cry broke the silence.
“Ada?!” the child was sitting up, gazing in to the fire with frightened eyes, then he turned to her.
“Where am I? Where are the spiders?” his voice was faint and weak, obviously terrified.
“Calm down, dear. You have had a nightmare, that is all” Sophie, though she was poor, knew that this wasn't true 'So he is an elf!' she thought to herself, surprised. He did not have pointed ears, but his fair hair and deep blue eyes, along with his sweet face, made her not doubt of it.
“But... they were attacking us... I lost my sword!” he whispered, obviously confused “And then a spider came towards me, and ada wanted to protect me, but I fell in to the river!” he rubbed his eyes and looked at her again “And I do not know you”
“Now, dear. That was a dream! Sometimes dreams can be very strange” she lied “Now, drink this, you will feel better if you do” she handed him some hot tea “Lets see, do you remember your own name?”
“Um...” he stammered “No... I don't...” he looked up to her with huge and innocent blue eyes, that were at the same time wise “What is wrong with me?”
“Oh dear. You fell in the lake. Lucky you survived, that is. You must have lost some memory. Your name is...” she hesitated, and thought about a bird “Falco, your name is Falco” she smiled, remembering how much she had liked the falcons that sometimes flew above the lake.
“Yes... I think I remember now” Falco said, confused “Do I live here?” his gaze swept over the small room.
“No...” Sophie wondered what to say. She could not tell him that she was his mother, because she couldn't afford to keep him. Suddenly, she had an idea. The blacksmith had been saying that he wanted a son of his own, but he didn't have a wife.“Falco, dear. Your father is Sam, the blacksmith.Do you not remember? He is only a blacksmith, and you have to help him make things out of metal ” Sophie's eyes saddened as she saw his disappointed face. Poor child!
“Where do I go now?” the small boy said, curling up “I dreamt I had another family, but it was all a dream. I had an ada, I had a naneth. What do I do?”
The woman did not know what these words meant, but smiled sadly “You may stay here tonight, and tomorrow we will take you with your father”
Falco nodded, lying down sadly. The dream had been real, so real...

[Lunaestrella]

“Falco, wait!” a cry rung out in the distance. Billy huffed and puffed, exhausted at following his friend. “How can you be so fast?! Falco? Where are you?” his friend had now disappeared from sight, and Billy came to a standstill, looking around.
“I wish I was that agile” the thirteen year old boy said, gazing down at his huge belly. Still, Falco had always been fast for his age, everyone knew that.
“Here!” said a voice behind him. Billy squeaked, surprised.
“How did you get there? You weren't there a second ago!”
“Climbing the tree, silly. You know I'm good at it”
“Yes, but” The boy grumbled. His friend never made the slightest noise for anything.He always slipped away without notice.
“Ok, come on then” Falco patted Billy's shoulder “We must get back to Esgaroth.. I promised my father that I would help him make the sword.
Sam, Falco's "father" (he believed that he was really his dad) was the blacksmith in Esgaroth. After Falco had been found, he offered the boy to live with him, as long as he helped out. It was hard work, and the boy was (or looked) only thirteen years old, but he already knew how to do many things. Sam wasn't the nicest of men. Seeing that he had a helper, he drunk more and more ale every day, and did not do anything. So, of course, Falco had to do most of the work. And he wasn't treated very nicely, no, not at all. He was made to sleep in a straw bed in the corner, while Sam had a nice mattress, and was sometimes beaten if he didn't do his work.
The two boys ran along the path, nearing the lake. In the distance, they could see the small figure of Dragon Island, and Falco suddenly stopped.
“I would like to visit that some day” he pointed at the platform that was really just a pile of bones and rubble.
“What?! Are you crazy? It is haunted!” Billy exclaimed.
“Yes, but... I mean, it was a dragon, wasn't it? Don't you think it is amazing?”
“Falco, it is dangerous. And you know Sam wouldn't let you go”
“Yes, I suppose so” Falco shrugged, his blue eyes shining sadly “But I feel like I am meant for more that this. More than a blacksmith. I do not know where I get this feeling from, I just...”
“Everyone thinks that” Billy interrupted “All of us wish we could be great princes and kings, but we are not, and there is nothing we can do about it” he said “And we have to go now, it is late”
Falco nodded, but inside, there was still a small seed of doubt. Why was he so different? First of all, his looks. Most people from Esgaroth were fairly short, with dark hair and dark eyes, but he was tall, with extremely long legs, fair hair and blue eyes.That was even stranger because his father was a fat, small, squint eyed and black haired man. Falco had often asked about his mother, but Sam had always found an excuse to not have to tell him. Second, was his way of acting. Most people said that he moved much more elegantly than other children; he was agile, fast and even had a different voice compared with others. And, also...
He shook his head. 'Maybe I am just making it up' he thought. But he sometimes had... visions. As if he were remembering something that had never happened. This had occurred to him not many times, but all of them had made him wonder.
The first had been when he was five or six, when he was climbing a tree. Suddenly, everything had vanished, and all he could see was the leaves above him, only of a different colour. They were red and purple. But the strangest thing was that he could hear a voice behind him, a very familiar voice. It was soft and comforting, and it sounded like a man's. However much he tried, Falco could not listen to the words, nor look behind him. When the vision had vanished, he was much disappointed.
The next time had been a couple of years later. Falco was working on a sword, and while the blade became shinier and shinier, he had another vision. He could see the same sword in front of him, only that it had strange writing on it. He heard a voice. The voice, to his surprise, had been the same that he had heard in the last vision. This time, he understood what it said.
“This is your sword. Take care of it well, as it can save your life many times. From now on, it is your best friend, never forget that. Be brave when needed, but you must also know how to flee when necessary”
With these words, it had vanished again. And Falco had no visions since.
Falco shook his head again and followed Billy through the crowded streets, thinking that maybe he wasn't so different, maybe he was imagining things.
If he only knew what would happen when he arrived at the blacksmith's...

[Lunaestrella]

Once they arrived, Billy was panting for breath, and took a step backwards.
"I am not going in there. Your father doesn't like me being with you, you know that" with this he turned and walked slowly back towards the farm where he lived. Falco shrugged and tiptoed inside, hoping that his father would be asleep. The boy's feet made no noise on the dirty ground as he entered, but as he approached the table he heard a grunt behind him.
He swung around. There was Sam, drunk as always. He carried two bottles of ale and walked towards him, wobbling.
“Why... why do you do that?” the fat man stumbled, leaning on the wall.
“Do what?” Falco asked, looking towards the entrance. He began to walk backwards, knowing that it was best not to be around when his “father” was drunk.
“Be... so... quiet.” he burped “I cannot hear you... coming”
“I- I won't do it again” All Falco wanted was to escape, but he couldn't know. He found himself backed against a wall, his blue eyes wide with fright.
“Oh yes you will!”the drunk man waved the two bottles in the air “You are a lazy bug! Now make that sword, now, come on!”
Falco gulped and slowly moved to the metalworking place. Sam flopped on a chair and began to snore loudly, and the boy was much relieved. Sighing, he began to work. He already knew how to make things very well, and soon had a huge fire roaring. The sound of hammer clanking against metal was heard as he shaped the sword carefully. It was hard work, and soon his arms ached terribly, and had to wipe sweat off his forehead many times. Falco didn't know who this sword would be for, but had been told that it was extremely important for it to be just right. He worked hard all morning, the sound of his work not waking the drunk man, who was still snoring in his chair. Finally, Falco decided to take a break, and gazed in to the deep red flames that leapt high, almost touching the roof. He wiped his forehead and wished that he was somewhere else, instead of this dirty house. He would give anything to be able to run away, to be free. He crossed his aching arms sadly. 'That wish will not be granted' he thought 'I will have to remain here all my life'. He sighed and continued shaping the sword. To say the truth, he was rather proud of it. It was the best he had ever made. It's blade shone like silver, and in the hilt he gave much time, carving shapes of leaves around it that fitted perfectly in a man's hand. He then made a scabbard, and by the time he finished he was absolutely exhausted. He sat on a pile of hay in the corner and closed his eyes, smiling at the little comfort that it gave him.
After a few minutes he heard voices outside, and the sound of his father waking up. He suddenly noticed that he was completely filthy, but obeyed Sam's orders and brought the sword.
“My Lord” the drunk man said, wobbling slightly as he bowed “This is the sword that you asked for” He pulled Falco along by the neck of his shirt. The boy saw that in front of them was a tall man, clad in armour and a black cloak. He rode an impressive horse, and looked truly noble by the way he stood and spoke. The boy, trembling, bowed down to him and offered the sword, biting his lip. After a few seconds he noticed that the knight hadn't picked up the sword, and raised his head slightly, receiving a blow from Sam . This seemed to make the newcomer angry, as he dismounted and grabbed hold of the drunk man's chin, picking the sword up as he did so. A hood covered his face, but Falco could see that his gaze was fixed on Sam's, and the blacksmith seemed uncomfortable, as his head was lifted right up.
“Good sword” he said finally, still not letting go of him “You look extremely clean to have just made it, as it was only done less than an hour ago” the man spoke softly, eyeing the blade with a professional eye. Then his grey gaze swept over Falco, who bowed his head back down again, trembling. “However, there is someone here that has made it, and it is not you, Sam. It is someone who has his face covered in soot, burnt hair and looks exhausted, not someone who merely looks drunk” he finally let go of his chin. “I would like to have a word with you in private, if you don't mind” he said to Sam, sheathing the sword and walking towards the other side of the room. The blacksmith got up, not before shooting an angry look at Falco and kicking up a puddle of mud in his face.The boy coughed and spluttered, wiping his face witht the back of his sleeve as he stepped outside, and, although he was thinking about eavesdropping, he was to scared by the man to do so. The boy sat on the floor 'Who was he? Why was the man so angry by that Sam had hit him?' Falco waited patiently till the man came out again with a swish of his dark cloak. Although most of his face was covered by the hood, he could make out two sparkling grey eyes, that seemed to look at him for a while, as if surprised. Why would anyone be interested in the son of a blacksmith? Falco looked away, uncomfortable, but had made up his mind. Once the sword buyer was a few steps away, he began to follow, his feet making no noise, as usual.
Someone had led the big horse to the stables, and the man was about to mount when he saw Falco appear round the corner.
“Well well” he said with a wry smile. He walked towards him, and Falco started to regret that he had followed. But he was thoroughly surprised when the man, instead of harming him, bent down, removing his hood to reveal a thin, elegant face, covered by a grey beard. Two eyes twinkled in his face, that seemed much older than anyone would have guessed by the way he walked. The man smiled, but there was something wrong about the look that he gave him, something Falco could not understand.
“This is a good sword, well done” he nodded, unsheathing it “It will please who sent me beyond words, ” he smiled again, his voice turning to a soft whisper “For many reasons” Now he grew serious, and frowned as he began to speak in a low voice:

“All that is gold does not glitter,
not all those who wander are lost”

He sighed, shaking his head “I think those verses did not only speak of me”he said in a whisper. And with that he quickly mounted, his horse taking off at a full gallop. “Remember these words, Falco. One day, maybe not that far away, they will make sense to you” If he said any more, he was not able to hear it, as the man's voice was drowned by the howling of the wind.
Falco made his way inside slowly “All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost” he repeated over and over again. What did that man mean? Who was that man? What did he mean by that it would please someone in many ways? The boy felt all these questions swirl up in his head “One day, maybe not that far away, these words will make sense to you”. That is what he had said, and Falco hoped that this person was saying the truth. What he did not know was that he had just spoken to the king of Gondor, who never lies.

[Lunaestrella]

“Come on, Falco!” Billy said, eyeing the forest next to them suspiciously “We don't want to stay here long”
“Why not?” Falco said dreamily, gazing into the depths of the trees “Why should I not go in here?”
“It gives me the creeps. And Falco, you are being strange lately. Falco?”
The young man had began walking towards the trees, and stroked the bark with his long fingers. His blue eyes widened suddenly, as if something were calling him. A shiver ran down his spine as he shook his head and glanced back at the forest for the last time. “Alright then. We can go” He smiled at his best friend. They were now eighteen years old, but were still always seen together. The other children never seemed to like Falco, and he was glad that Billy wasn't against him, like others. He turned around and began jumping from rock to rock easily, grinning at Billy who huffed and puffed, climbing and slipping. Falco wondered why he could jump about so easily, and at once his expression saddened, thinking about the cloaked man that had come many years ago. The answer of his words hadn't become obvious to him yet, and he was beginning to give up hope.
Suddenly, they heard a muffled cry coming from the bank of the lake. Falco's eyes narrowed as he told Billy to wait, and, as fast as he could, ran along to the bank. There he discovered a white bundle, which seemed to be a person covered in white web. As he removed the stuff, he noticed it was sticky, almost as if it was spider's web. Once it was sufficiently removed, he was able to make out the face of a man, only that very fair. He had thin, arched eyebrows and light coloured hair that came up to his shoulders. But the most distinctive feature was that he had slightly pointy ears.
“What happened?” he asked as he tried to pick up the man (who was in fact an elf) .
“S- spi-ders” he said in a croaky voice “Mi- mirk...wood.... ne- needs h-help” After that, and with a last breath, he uttered in a faint whisper:
“All- that... is go- gold does not... glitter”
And with that the elf died. Falco's eyes grew damp with tears, as there was something familiar about this person, something that made him know that he did not deserve to die. In that moment, Billy arrived.
“What...?” his voice trailed off “I'm sorry” he whispered seeing the dead elf.
But Falco was hardly listening. This was the signal that he had been waiting for.
“All that is gold does not glitter...” he uttered, remembering the verses. So this person knew what the sword- buyer had told him. The young blacksmith sat down thoughtfully, ignoring Billy's questions. He knew there was something wrong. That person, the dead one, was not human. He felt his ears in disappointment. They were not pointy, but that would explain why he looked different to the rest of people of his age.
“ Billy, tell someone at town and bury him nicely” he said, making a decision. He had wanted to do what he was thinking for ever, but now he knew that he must do it.
“Ok, Falco, are you alright?” Billy asked, confused.
He shook his head. “Don't worry about me, I just have something to do”
Once his friend was out of sight, Falco slowly crept in to one of the rowing boats that were in the harbour. He didn't know how to sail, but he was sure he could learn how to. Fixing his blue gaze on his objective, he began to paddle north with the oars, the waves moving the boat up and down. Falco gulped but continued rowing towards where he knew he had to go:
Dragon Island
(I will write more if someone posts)

[Meriadoc Brandybuck]

Wow! This is really good! I like that you include the flashbacks/visions, and that the poem about Aragorn is given a new meaning. All in all, keep writing! I'll definitely keep up with this, and this makes me want to write more on my fanfic, because none of my posts are ever this long.

[Lunaestrella]

Thanks! I am working on the next chapter, it might be up tonight (or whatever time it is there). I will still be reading your fanfic, it's complete awesomness!
Oh, and I have quite a nice plot twist Tell me if you guess what it is, I want to see how long I can keep it without anyone noticing, till it is actually said.

[Lunaestrella]

The white bones loomed up in front of him like ghosts in the sunset. Falco felt a shiver run down his spine as he leapt off the boat, tying it securely to one of the white sticks. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the rubble and mud that had gathered there.
Really, Falco did not know why he was there. It was complete madness, but something told him that he needed to explore that island, and so he did, picking his way carefully through the dirt. The mud began to reach his knees, but Falco did not care. Now he was guided by some vague instinct. He did not know where he was going, yet he knew at the same time.
Surprisingly, he did not get tired. He continued walking round and round, with no known direction.
Falco was about to give up and go back to the boat, when his gaze suddenly fixed on the floor. A bone was sticking out, and on top of it, was one of the strangest things he had ever seen. It was a leaf brooch, beautifully painted green. It didn't seem affected by the mud and water, as it was almost completely clean. Falco frowned as he picked it up carefully in the palm of his hand. As he looked at it, suddenly the rest of the world became blurry, unreal. All except the pin, that lay in his hand. All of a sudden, the world around him became brighter, and Falco heard a voice, the same one that he had heard in his other visions. It comforted him greatly, though he didn't know why. There was something familiar in it, as if it was a long lost friend. It spoke to him softly.
“This is a great gift. Keep it well, for once it belonged to a very brave elf. Have it with you at all times”
With this the vision faded, leaving him shivering on the island. He felt nostalgic, as if he was missing something. In that moment, right in that very spot where he had been found fifteen years ago, he made his final decision, the one that would rule his life forever. He would be leaving Esgaroth, forever. He would enter Mirkwood and seek what he was looking for. He did not know what it was yet, but knew that he would find the answer there, in the great forest.

[Meriadoc Brandybuck]

Is he related to Legolas?

[Lunaestrella]

Not saying! *wink*
Its 10:25 PM here. I feel like writing but I'm not sure it would come out alright if I'm tired. I think I'll post more in the morning.
OMG, I just realized this is probably the record of amount of writing I have done in one day I usually just write a page or something.

[Lunaestrella]

Falco approached his home silently, entering through the door. He could hear Sam grunt and drink, and tried to make his way around, but the man saw him, and stood up, wobbling.
“Hey! You! Get working, you lazy old slug!” the drunk man came towards him. Recently, he was in a much worse mood, so more violent. He toppled over, and got up again, waving a stick and coughing.
Falco watched in dread. Since he was small, he had learnt to fear that man. He didn't notice, but he could have beat the blacksmith easily in a fight. The only problem was that he was too terrified to even try and defend himself. As the drunken man came closer and closer, he shrunk into the corner, but it did not stop the blow that he received in the cheek. He turned his bleeding face away before receiving another in the shoulder, several on both arms and another in his leg,that made the stick crack with a nasty sound. Sam grunted and delivered him a clumsy kick in the stomach and stomping on his foot before turning back to his ale.
Falco did not dare to move. He did not realize that he was nearly twice as tall as the man, far more slender and more strong. He had grown up to fear it, and sunk more in to the corner, hoping that his “father” would fall asleep or let him leave. But that didn't happen. The man came back, burping loudly.
“Now, get to work you fat, disgusting, useless thing! I want a gate and five swords done for tomorrow” he grabbed Falco, who was badly hurt and exhausted, forcing him to get up, and flung him towards the door carelessly. “You better have them done, ugly, disgusting bug, before I wake up. Otherwise you will know what a beating is”Then he sat down and picked the beer up again,watching him with small and dark eyes.
Falco obeyed, not daring to contradict. He knew that what was asked of him was impossible, especially as his right arm was much damaged by the blow that he had just been given. He picked up the hammer, pain running through his arm. He was extremely tired, and could hardly stand up without collapsing. Ignoring it, he began to make the gate, but before long, facing the extreme heat of the fire and his damaged arm, he was exhausted. Falco's eyesight became blurry as he fell, gasping for breath.
This was the fist time he had two visions in the same day. But this one was different. He was suddenly in a very pleasant clearing, surrounded by rivers and trees. He wore clean robes and his hair was combed back neatly. Falco stood up, admiring the beauty of the place, but suddenly a voice, the same voice, was heard right behind him, as if whispered in his ear. He desperately tried to turn around, but he was fixed on the spot.
“Fight, Falco, fight” The voice said in an eager whisper “You are strong, remember? Run away, you do not belong there, you are not one of them. Escape...”
The voice died away, and Falco suddenly found himself in the hot and dirty forge, lying on the floor. He blinked several times, wanting to be back in the vision, but the sound of Sam's approaching footsteps made him sit up, but not in time.
“You lazy beast!” the drunk man exclaimed “Now you will have what you deserve!” Falco crouched down, receiving an even harder beating than before. Sam was absolutely careless, and brought the stick down wherever he could. Falco rolled into a tight bundle, trembling and covered in bruises , but suddenly, he heard the voice in his mind again, now faint.
“Fight, Falco, fight...”
And he made a decision, he did something he had never done in his life.
He stood up, receiving another blow, but he did not care, not now. Falco's blue eyes sparkled with rage as he pushed the drunk man out of the way, sending him flying over the room. The elf seemed to grow taller as he picked out a sword that he had made and put it against Sam´ s throat.
“No, no...” the fat man whimpered, his face bright red.
“Why should I not?” Falco was changed. He did no longer look like a defenceless child, but like a grown warrior. “You have mistreated me for many years, why should I not have my revenge?” he spoke quietly, yet determined.
“Because... because I am your father!” Sam said, dropping his bottle of beer.
Falco's eyes suddenly grew wide. His father? Of course, he had always accepted it before that moment, but now it was as if... he knew that the man was lying.
“I have no father” he narrowed his eyes and sheathed the sword. “Go now. I am leaving, and do not expect me to come back”
Falco began to gather provisions, packing a small leather bag with some food, useful things such as knives and string, and an old tunic. With that he departed, without bidding farewell to Sam, who was now weeping, as he no longer had a helper.