Joseph-Corbeau

Please check out the adult fairy tale in progress over at https://imptryst.wordpress.com/ The rain began like a prologue and bandied along the market’s metal roofs creating the noise of a thousand pellets dancing. The ripe smell of Argian fish toast and hard honeysuckle tea was carried by the wind and flitted through the bazaar.   This was heaven to Finwë Oronrá as he patrolled the streets of the food district. The smells of the market carried him on invisible wings and made the day in-day out drudgery of his job more worth while. He was a member of the now dwindling Trooping Fay, which reflected in the tarnished jute officer