The hills had much to hide. Their long vast greens, beautiful to behold, covered miles and miles of Iceland when the world was so very young. They spoke to each other often. The wind carried their whispers like an invisible messenger. The rain soaked them in each others secrets. The sodden mounds could never hold too many. When the glorious sun arose, it dried the grass and the earth beneath but never the secrets within; they remain. One may ask how such powerless objects may come to acquire such large burdens. The answer is simply this: when the world was so very young and civilization had not yet corrupted “mankind”, secrets were stored and not traded for allies and treasure. The secrets were kept within the hills. Atop the many hills lie villages. One in particular, Merwood, is where our story begins. Merwood was a large village and much more important than the others for in this village resides King Fendolas Arroden, quite a wise a leader. Although he was approaching the end of his days, he seemed fully aware and capable of Merwood’s several needs. There were many villagers. One of which was a young man, age 17, and his name was Cidral Mirromer. Cidral was the child of Gladomer and Alphiaden Mirromer and the brother of Merden Mirromer. Alphiaden was the princess, Fendolas’s daughter. According to birthright, Cidral would therefore be the Prince/King to be, but, at age 19 Alphiaden chose Gladomer for her spouse, and Fendolas respectfully disowned her. Gladomer was deprived of noble blood, he therefore did not reach up to the dear kings standards. Cidral was not bothered by this though, he honored both of his parents above all others.

 there ya go....enjoy (I hope)