The wind was blowing steadily from the east, sending wisps of snow across the frozen earth. Waves gently washed up upon the beach, as the tides came and went. A few leaves floated on with the water, falling from the trees that overhung the water’s edge. Chunks of ice also bobbed about, tossed to and fro by the wind and tide.
A quiet splash disturbed the quiet. A sinker now floated on the surface of the water, moving gently with the motion of the fishing rod to which it was attached. Holding the rod, and sitting on a log near the water’s edge, was an elf. He was fishing.
Halatir was a young elf, as they went. His pale face bore no signs of age, and his long white hair hung down behind him, reaching almost to his waist. He wore the ever-present grey cloak about his shoulders, and garments made from the pelts of various animals. A brown belt, the largest of the straps that held his wardrobe together, contained an assortment of fishhooks, a ball of twine, a pouch of bait(worms), and a knife in a brown sheath. Beside him on the sand, were several small species of fish, placed carefully on an old piece of leather to prevent sand from covering them.
He watched the line running from his fishing pole, following it out until it disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Beyond that small distance, his eyes looked out over the sea. Halatir was fond of fishing and the water, and this small inlet was a favorite fishing spot of his, from where he could both watch the sea and fish in peace. He’d been doing so for almost an hour today, and intended to do so for several more if the weather stayed hostpitable. His village was a few miles west of him, further down the coast, and the chieftain had ordered him to keep an eye out for ships while on his fishing expedition, and to warn the clan if anything went amiss. But, nothing had happened for the last few weeks, and Halatir was peaceful, happy, and content. He shifted himself on the log, and continued to fish.