Remembering the Dead pt. 2

>Balin’ Memories<

Balin could smell the mist atop of the Blacken Hills, as its triple waterfalls fell, down deep into the abyss below. He could almost see the pink foam forming at the bottom. He could smell the faint scent of basil bread and dyer mutton his father always made, The Northern Emperor had a habit of kicking the chefs out of the palace after a great victory and fixing dinner for his sons.’ A tradition that both Earendil and him cherished. The bread was divine, but the mutton was always disgusting on account of Dyer deer's having jelly for muscles.