CHAPTER 1
Against the popular belief, Tryndamere was a refined man. His skills at war had made him a formidable warrior, yes; but he was human still. At least that is what he told himself each time after rage possessed him. The memory of his parents was a bittersweet thing to remember because he knew all of these memories would end in the same trail of thoughts; tainted with bloodshed, horror and agony. This was something he didn't want to remember, he didn't want to think about. Not when he was about to nap at his favorite after training nap spot.
Leaves of winter trees rustled with the chilling northern wind. Tryn listened to the sounds of animals, pondering about the miracle of creation. Ending a life was easy but… Starting one? This was something he couldn't wrap his mind around. Thinking about vastness of the sky and complex tranquility of nature always leaved him in awe and wonder.
Thinking like this was a gift of his mother. When he was a small boy, he and his mother would come around this forest to walk and meditate. She would talk for hours about places Tryn would only be able to dream of. Being born to Freljord gave a limited palette of colors imaginable. Endless green fields tattered with colorful flowers and a spotless sky was something out of his minds reach to imagine. It was almost magical, just like his mother. She was a really mystical woman Tryn remembered with a sad smile. Such a passionate and delicate lady, clever and dreamy, mature and childish; a perfect balance of contradicting traits. She always knew what to do and what to say at the perfect scenario. This trait of hers was something Tryn always desired to have but the denseness of his father was a little bit too contagious.
He bitterly laughed to himself, the sound he made scared a busy wild poro. He glanced at the small animal running towards its home. Home… After his parents… passed away, he didn't know where to call home anymore. When he was training or battling or working on something, when he was too busy to think, life was much easier. At solemn moments like this, he didn't know what to do with his heart and soul. "It could be nice to not feel…" he mumbled to himself. "If I was a heartless warrior like they think I am I wouldn't have this much of a… problem."
'Emotions are not problems my dear son, they are what makes you human, they are what makes this universe keep existing…' his mother's teachings slowly surfaced in his mind. Tryn felt ashamed and embarrassed that he forgot the wise words of his own mother. He gazed at the clouds passing by; the smell of a distant blizzard filled his nostrils. Somewhere far away there was a rising storm, he could tell.
Warm feeling of leaves and his fur mantle enveloped him slowly, making his mind wander towards unconsciousness. His observational and naturist thinking was not the only thing he had from his mother. There were also dreams. Dreams with meanings and wonders… Tryn was not a person who would see and remember a lot of dreams but when he saw one, it wouldn't be a meaningless mixture of his unconscious. He had learned to navigate and explore in his dreams from his mother, who was a true master. He smiled softly at thought of his mother. Maybe she would visit her this time?
Snow stormed and wind howled in his ears ferociously as the dream begun. Soon after a pleasant dale filled his vision as the storm came to an end slowly. Glancing around, at first he found nothing remarkable to look at in thisendless see of white. Then he saw the sparkly trails of souls and magic heading towards the auroras, shimmering and dancing. A pile of snow puffed with a force from beneath, rapidly capturing his attention. Something was under the layers of snow? What could survive in such cold, dark and breathless place? The pile kept rising as he watched a white blur departed from snow and ice. Was… was he witnessing the birth of a snow fearea?
She got up slowly, dazed and confused. A white coat was hung around her body; she touched it slowly then looked around. Tryndamere watched her in awe, her snow white hair flourished slowly. She took a few shaky steps, trying to regain her balance. Than as slowly as she arose, she took graceful steps in the snow. She searched and sought out until she stopped on in front of another pile. She bent down with such reverence and took out something radiating white light as if she was cherishing something. She slowly caressed the thing first than kissed it slowly.
Wind started to blow again, at first slowly than faster. It blew the snow off the ground to the sky, creating a mystical atmosphere. She turned around and for the first time he held her gaze.
Her eyes were so blue that the sky looked gray compared to them.
∼ o∽
|PATCH|[23/09/16] Corrected some typos and improved the flow of the piece. Thanks Ascaisil again for the corrections and marvelous review!
I don't own League of Legends but the story is copyrighted to Alex rusanov.
Salutes my dear readers, here I am with a new chapter, faster than I expected. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter aswell. I am planning to reflect a lot of headcannons and delve into deeper character development so bear with me. I always hated how Tryndamere was perceived by the League, really one sided. Probably that is way I am building more into his character. Also the amount of descriptions in this chapter, ugh I am so sorry.
Please review and comment, I'd really love to hear about your opinions.
With passion and determination, yours truely Alex.
- Music For This Chapter -
Chinese Best Bamboo Flute Relaxing Music (Youtube)
