Reading about it is one thing. Being there is entirely different. Linett records what she finds in lands far from Bree, but you really ought to see it for yourself.
I’m back from my trip to the Bieszczady Mountains (Poland) and Lviv (Ukraine) and will be posting a few pics soon but for now here’s a drawing of the night sky in Bieszczady. It’s one of the prettiest skies I’ve ever seen (compares only to the one in the middle of the Baltic Sea and Scotland). Go there if you can! It’s worth it!
Don’t listen to Love Drought and then watch acro dance duets if you don’t want to draw dancing fenhawke
rannadylin
replied to your post “I can’t believe there are more people following this blog than my art…”Fenris/Hawke prompt: Spring Cleaning. 🙂
things that got away from me: this
Gamlen looked properly put out by his niece’s second intrusion into his life. First with the blasted gem, and now again with her whole house staff in tow. Leave it to Leandra’s eldest to drag some mute elf and two dwarves into his house.
“Oh, quit pouting, Uncle. You have a daughter to impress now.”
“I can handle my daughter just fine without your ‘help,’ you know.” Hesta snorted. If Leandra had told him that her eldest was such an insufferable meddler, he would have thought twice about helping them enter the city.
“How’s this: if we find any buried treasure under the dust, you can have it.”Insufferable was a compliment.
He tried to placate his irritation with the fact that, at the very least, her house staff were doing their jobs right. The dwarves were busy moving what little furniture he had to one side of the room, chattering busily the entire time, and the elf had already started sweeping. It took about fifteen seconds of watching this for Hesta to get bored of standing still and join in disassembling his house. Gamlen, having given up on any peace and quiet he might have hoped for that day, decided to go outside instead. As soon as he sat down on the stairs, the elf began to sing.
So, I’m finally gonna share my commission from siriusdraws I got a few months ago (I think it was in May, I lose track of time). But yeah! It’s of my rogue Hawke, Fenris and their son~ Thank you again! I still adore this picture sooooo much!!!
Zinnia: I mourn your absence.
He had known he’d miss her. He’d grieved before she’d even left, Varric’s cursed Inquisition pulling her sense of duty between them like a shield. But it’s been more than three months since he’s seen her face and their daughter is growing without her mother, and he–
He misses her.
Their neighbors do not understand. They’d wondered when she’d left, whispers following him into the village with every step, they looked so happy before, I heard she was ill, they say such things are common with marriages to elves, but what will happen to the child?
He knows what will happen. The child will grow, and the rumors will change, and fade, and die, and then Hawke will return and they will surge again, made worse by their refusal to dispense details to every prying soul. Life will eventually resume, as normal as they can ever bear to be, and the village will be left with one more quiet mystery among its farms and rivers.
He knows this. And yet–
The weather changes, the air crisping, the leaves golding at the edges. Varric writes him now and then, spare letters of well-being, and day by day Fenris turns more and more often to the west where Skyhold lies beyond the mountains. He glances at his pack, at his sword where it hangs on the wall. He takes the milking goat to a lead and walks with her to the creek and back again, wondering.
Varric writes. Hawke does not His daughter smiles at him as he takes her in his arms after a bath, and he realizes–such a small thing. Such a small thing, their child’s smile.
Hawke has never seen it.
He leaves at dawn. The goat trails behind him, bell clanking with every step; Leda rests against his heart in the sling Hawke had made before she left, cheerfully cooing every time he glances down to meet her eyes. Occasionally wagons offer a ride when they pass the same direction; other days he walks dawn to dusk, resting only when his daughter can no longer bear the swaddle and demands to be fed from the patient goat.
They travel this way for two weeks. It is not the most arduous journey he has ever made, even with an infant in arms, and on the last morning he hires space in a wagon’s bed to carry them the last way up the mountain’s side, to the walls of the stronghold spreading up and away in every direction he can see, cage and guard and sanctuary for everything he holds most precious to him.
A simple thing to persuade the guards out of his way, to hide his daughter in the folds of his cloak like a parcel meant for keeping. A simple thing to stride into Skyhold’s great hall and find Hawke standing at the other end with the Inquisitor, her head turned at the commotion as he enters.
She breathes his name into the sudden silence, her eyes alight. Fenris’s heart is a soaring thing, even after the long and winding weight of their journey, and as he pulls the cloak away he sees her eyes drop to the baby he has brought half a continent to see her.
She covers her mouth. And Leda–smiles–
a quick Josephine.
LOTRO Calendar Ranna Plays the Flute!
Linett's Lore 