Lost is the meaning of those chains which sat in center of the old village. A place now encapsulated by an ever expanding city.
It was once a place of quiet life, where simple joys abounded, but terror came one way or another to meet a folk that sought solely to be left alone.
They used to say a giant came to take their cattle, to reap their many crops. A giant caught by stakes and chains in the center of their village.
With fire and spear and the bravest hearts they forced the giant there, and as his acts caused them to stave so too did he starve there.
But forgotten is that tale to any who wonder by those chains, the folk who wished to be alone pushed to death or from their ancient lands.
“They cannot be alone or live without mixing among many others”, were the words of the ever encroaching cities. Their inhabitants having lost themselves, raised certain that something must be wrong and despised in those who wished nothing to do with them.
But some things are worth more than simple promises of joys somehow never felt or known, or plenty but only for those who can afford it.
The chains in the baron city scape are all that remains in that place. A sign of a folk’s land swallowed up by the hollow buildings made as every other.
A land of blood and tradition lost, a folk displaced yet still with pride.
A prompt response.