Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.

Bilbo trying to cope with Fili’s death

A good story

can come in many forms;

A book,

a video,

or a tale.

It doesn’t matter where it comes from,

or how it was made,

as long as it touches

our

hearts …

softens

our

souls …

and

makes

us

feel.

That is what makes a story.

The End

I….can’t….I just cry everytime!