A. A Hawk
B. A Wizard of the Medival age
C. An inappropriate swear word in the Harry Potter universe
D. A jet Engine
E. None of the above
All the words that I gather
and all the words that I write,
Must spread out their wings untiring,
and never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm darkened or starry bright.
It was a story she heard in whispers. Told late at night after the Uncles and Aunts
left the Dormitory, by ones who only half believed it.
A tale from before the Elder Days. Of a time when the Bards walked free, before the
destruction and the sorrow, before The Master found them and brought them into the Academy,
where they might gather the stories and tales of the earth in peace. When the Academy was
but a distant hope, and the stories drifted through the land on their own.
The children shivered in their beds. Not have the Academy? What good would that be? No good
at all, they would whisper to each other before drifting off to sleep.
But she thought that it might be nice, just once, to see a different sky then the one she saw
through the glass ceiling in the library. And perhaps, maybe a glimpse at a bird, or maybe even a tree.
She kept these thoughts to herself, of course, and continued on in her studies.
Then one day, on her 17th birthday, her wish came true.