In this forestglade , the scale-like foliage cloaked the pathway and the aroma of everyone , each autumnal-coloured was fierce , intense and as strong as the stench of dew both fowl and beautiful but a little musky .
For a short-while , a wind-blown branch from a Cedar blew rapidily in the breeze hard enogh to belay the carrying of the palanquin but after a brief period the flight had again resumed . Many an emotion had consumed me whole on this lengthy journ : those of bewilderment , contentment and a worrisome theorem …
, nevertheless , this scene was beguiling and enticing with majesty and romanticism . As this pathway became narrow into more of a hallway , a thought of the mythical Valhalla began to flood my mind and that is when the forest clearing had begun to shroud into darkness and with the exception of the peeking sun and the lantern inside of the palanquine … all remained nothing but pure obscuria . Silence between those carrying the palanquin was all but absolute as it was for most of the journey but now a dark-wave of blank speech was all but too blank even for silence but within a moment of that silence a vague shadow of day began to form and a dark contour of a person began to take shape . It was a man … who was dressed in a very deep shade of purple and who had kept a sunlit shone sword clean without the faintest extract of silver to rust . By now the palanquin had reached the end of darkness and was completely outside in a less darkened but more vague version of sunlight with the misty clouds creeping about . The man had come completely out of the shadow in which kept him hidden and revealed his face : he was a man that I knew … a fair man indeed , his hair was long and black and both his eye were solid black as well … it was Dolgar and he gazed at me like a madman without the lost of senses or control and in a ice-cool demonic-vox his lips spoke my name ” Iara ” and so I replied with his name ” Dolgar ”