The Third String.
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Tales from a Dagda Bard
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The Third String.
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Tales from a Dagda Bard
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1/3/2018 5 Comments A Long Day and a Tough NightIt had been one long day. He couldn't recall a longer one in all his years, still he would never say that it hadn’t been worth it, nor that he hadn’t enjoyed it. As the sun began its descent at long last, night’s darkness crept slowly towards the places it had long been denied. His rolling gait took him by the roads away from the Rath of Eclmar and on across the country towards the West. In the crook of his great arm rested the bundle, and swaddled within it the child. Such a small pudgy thing, all pale skin and softness. As he looked down where it slept, held close to his bodies heat, he saw the face scrunch up in momentary discomfort. The returned warmth of the fart was accompanied a smell of mothers milk, pungent in the Dagda’s nostrils.
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