Lord Barthòl was born to privilege in a time of hunger above the port town of Hálmeth, and grew up seeing the poverty around him and could do nothing. His father, Lord Barthòlith, was not a kind man, either to his folk or his family, and while the lord family of Hálmeth wanted for nothing, the same could not said of the people in the town below.
After the fall of the First Age, a great time of Darkness came upon Erâth. For many centuries the men of Erâth lived poorly, always at the mercy of the beasts and other creatures that the Duithèn set upon them daily. They forgot about their race’s aspirations of Eternity, and forgot the other races of power, and forgot even about the great war that had brought them so low in the first place. Misery and despair became a way of life, and for a thousand years men lived so.
Just a quick update to give you all an idea of just how poorly I’m doing at this year’s NaNoWriMo. To date, I’ve written exactly 14,467 words of Legends and Myths of Erâth, which is about half of where I should be. I’m very disappointed in myself.
The trouble is that I’m so often tired and exhausted when coming home from work that I fail to write in the evenings. Yesterday and today I had off, but instead of writing I’ve spent most of it sleeping (and buying a new car). And now, of course, instead of writing I’m blogging, which is still writing but not the kind that counts.
According to the NaNoWriMo website, I’d have to write 2,359 words a day to finish on time. Or else I’ll be done around Christmas. So here I go, back to work, scrabbling desperately to finish a book that’ll never be done on time. Oh well.