The flora of the fall court had always put on a serene facade, the leaves breaking from their trees in lovely swirling colours of browns and reds. Its cool breeze that delightfully chilled those who preferred a cool environment. But this did not soothe the stone giant, no there are many a creature within this court that had unnerved Orðabók. Best that he be done with his tithe of knowledge to the king of fall. Lest he be turned into some less than unsavory art form.

	Ponderously the lord of stone hobbled onward, through densely obscured thickets, his footfalls causing numerous ravens to flock in droves away, the ruler of this court would be expecting him. Eventually something had frozen the golem in his tracks, voices. While rare, it wasn't unheard of that the hermit would wander off of his hidden paths and bump into others, and here in the Unseelie lands, Orðabók had met many a foul fae. He must be on guard.

	Peering into a grove-like clearing ever so stealthy, as well as a giant man of rock can be, he spots three souls conjoined in some manner. One, he had perhaps seen before, though he could be wrong, there were many nobles of the court. Another seemed to attend the first, and the last, most curiously indeed, had appeared to be fully human. Such is a rare encounter, even for one as ancient as Orðabók.
Without sensing any overt hostility, the golem's curiosity overwhelmed him. Striding out into the clearing as harmless as he can appear.

	"Do I sense lost spirits in the wood?" he bellows in his dull and earthy tone. But by the time his words were uttered the three had already been off. His glacial movement must be to blame for it, had they simply not noticed him, or did they just not care? Orðabók couldn't help but to meander after them, how the stone man wished to speak with a mortal, he could engrave many a tablet with what could be learned from them.