Whimsies by Grundy

Wain

Findis smiled.

It had been a hard time since the Darkening, but with the rising of the sun, life had begun to find its new rhythms. They had been able to plant crops again, and with Yavanna’s aid, the plants were adapting well to the new light cycle.

The last of the wains bearing their first harvest were trundling into the granaries and storehouses. There was more than enough to feed them well through the fallow time of year – and enough to finally consider a festival.

After so much sadness, her people not only needed but deserved to make merry.