The sea roaring against the rocks, roaring. A fierce wind pushes him in an attempt to conquer the land. The small island seems to fade away on itself, shrinking against the fury of wind and sea. The darkness is punctuated by the lights of the port and the lighthouse, like a benevolent eye moves back and forth, watching the sea, to warn mariners of the presence of the small island and its inhabitants.
The magician looks out from the silence of the house. The desk of cards jammed in front of him is a comfort, is home, the first I've ever had since gone to Hogwarts to find another name. He had to win and lose at least another two, before finding himself and deciding that the name had no significance then. More important is how you call those who love you, and there is a name that only a person takes a chance at him, which has become more expensive than any other. The voice called him from the kitchen, as is often the trilling Elven items.
"Chief," asks, using that name so that softens the magician. "What you want honey in tea? He was one of the linden and chestnut, "The Wizard
we think and then replied, getting up to go get the cup in the kitchen.
"Lime .... at least induces sleep, "
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