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   The insightful tale of NomJoleeth Shimzabar is one of encouragement and personal triumph to anyone who has ever felt that there was no purpose, no higher power or that they had been forgotten and totally discarded in life. For those are just lies.  Even in the darkest of times there will always shine a shaft of light beaming hope for the hope-less.
   NomJoleeth Shimzabar was just one of the twelve sons of Joleeth, a lonely woman of the night with no husband; and every son had a different father.  Love was not enough to feed all the mouths Joleeth brought into the world.  Nor was she the best teacher to illustrate how to deal with life's adventures.  Shimzabar and his brother raised themselves best they could on the rugged streets of the ancient city of Lindon.  A crossroads place between the Iron Mountain of the northwest and the growing deserts of the east of Eriduah after the shambles of the Great War of the Ring of power.  Thirty years before the Great Departure of elvendom from Middle-Earth, the population of Lindon began to change with the arrival of he settling Bedouin people.  Leaving their tents behind for brick homes.  The city showed its own sets of challenges to overcome for the likes of Joleeth.

   Shimzabar stowed away on a hip he invested all his hopes in that would lead him out and beyond The Great Sea. However as it made sight of Mithar's harbor the boy was discovered, badly beaten, and thrown overboard.  The laughing fisherman shock their heads at the drowning rat of just twelves years old.
   Mithar had seen its own swelling share of desert Bedouins entering the city as well.  Another child of the street was just another face in the crowd, was a common phrase among the disillusioned.

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