Himring by between_thepages

Himring

At the edge of the world the snow-decked hills meet the sky, and between them a castle, its grey walls towering overhead in stoic silence.

The icy air cuts into the skin, the cold a dangerous beauty to behold, and yet here I am.

The lord of the castle seldom welcomes visitors on his doorstep, as few are willing to take the long way through the quiet lands.

He will welcome me, for I am what he desires, yet does not dare speak.

His towering form appears in the doorway, hair flaming red like the sun on a winter‘s morn.

And I am lost, sinking to my knees in the snow at the sight of him, at the sight of the one I love.

The longing that was aching in my chest has relinquished its hold as the joy takes me.

Takes both of us, if the look on his handsome face holds true.

We meet halfway in the courtyard, his tall form cut short by the height of the towers.

His bulwark against what might lie beyond these lands swallows all, smell, sight and sound, even time itself.

Inside these walls, there is no world, there is only us.