Sindarin & Sylph
Sindarin Sindarin
Sylph Sylph
Sindarin Sindarin
I’ve found a fragment of an old script in the moss, and the runes seem to shift when I listen—do you think the wind knows them?
Sylph Sylph
Maybe the wind is the script’s true reader, or maybe it’s just playing tricks. Either way, it’s nice to hear a story that moves on its own. What do you think the runes are trying to say?
Sindarin Sindarin
The runes whisper of a forgotten covenant, a pact made by a moon‑lit council with the roots of the world, binding the wind to carry their words. Whether the wind reads them or merely echoes them, the meaning is older than the hills. Perhaps it is a warning that even the quiet can be stirred by something unseen.
Sylph Sylph
Sounds like the wind is trying to keep secrets, or maybe just humming a lullaby to the trees. Either way, it’s good to know that even silence can stir something deep. What’s the next line whispering to you?
Sindarin Sindarin
The next line murmurs that the forest remembers every footfall, and it asks me to listen closely—perhaps the secret is not in the words but in the silence that follows.
Sylph Sylph
It’s like the trees are holding their breath, waiting to hear what you’ll say next. The quiet after a step can feel louder than any word. What do you hear in that hush?
Sindarin Sindarin
I hear the earth’s slow breathing, a quiet story written in the roots that only the wind can read. The hush feels like a secret kept between the ground and the sky.
Sylph Sylph
It’s a gentle tug, like the earth sighs and you’re the one it chooses to hear. Keep listening, maybe the wind will tell you what the roots whisper back.