Snow fell swiftly upon the hilly lands of Snawdun covering the vast region in silver-white powder. All about the land there rose a great many pine upon towering round hills which spread far beyond into the western mountains and the forests to the East. But in the middle most area of that land rose a hill greater than all others, flanked on all sides by lesser hills and trees, and on this stood a great, old castle of wondrous majesty. It was built in ages long forgotten, but its craft spoke highly of those whom had built it. Tall, thin spires rose at all parts of it, and their shingles were of ashen grey colour. The bricks with which it was built were of a blue-grey stone, giving a great feeling of cold to those who looked upon it even in the warmer seasons. But indeed it was the dead of winter now in Snawdun, and night had fallen upon the small principality, shading all with a cool, blue light which served to heighten the feeling of ice.

Below the hill from the forest ran a great road, and this continued on to the very castle door, ere it turned west toward the mountains and found its way to other villages and kingdoms beyond. Thither upon the road went a knight, horseless and servantless, but not without his sword. About him was wrapped tightly a warm, woolen cloak, and over his face he had drawn his hood. There was no other on the road that night. Indeed who else would wish to be? For the snow fell so heavily that unless one bore with them a light, they would be hard pressed to mark a man walking beside them in the night, if they could see them at all. But that is not to say one should have been incapable of seeing light amongst the falling flakes, and it was just that which the knight saw when he stepped out from the trees and looked blindly into the distance before him. For there, some distance ahead and above him, came the faint warm glow as of lights from a few small windows. Seeing this, the knight sighed heavily. He had journeyed long upon the road toward his goal and felt he at last was in need of a rest. What is more is that the snow had come upon him so suddenly, and the cold chill of the night air was enough to stiffen even his own young and agile sinews. With vigour renewed at such a welcome sight, the Knight made the journey up the tall, steep hill to the castle he could yet not see.

Indeed from that distance he had thought it a small hamlet set apart in the wilderness. For on this night, none of the upper halls of that castle were lit, and of those lower chambers, only a few were lighted with fire or candle light. So dim were the lights upon the hill that the knight had begun to wonder if it were not a small band of men whom had lighted a fire beside which he might be allowed to sit. Of course, there too came the thought that indeed it might be a company of bandits or thieves, in which case he may very well be forced to fight again for his life. At the thought, the Knight drew a dagger from his belt, lest he be unarmed completely upon being assailed, though indeed it was a weapon small enough to be quickly concealed should the company prove to be good. And imagine then his relief and surprise to find, ascending to the hill’s top, the mammoth majesty of the grey-blue, spired castle. Sighing again to himself, the knight put back his dagger in its place and came forward to the two doors which towered before him.

At either side of them upon the walls of the arch in which they stood, there were two torches which burned so low they did little to light the walls on which they hung, never mind the doors, or snow, or the Knight. Vaguely he could see that the doors were fashioned of thick, dark oak, and they were held together with black, iron bars, beset with large, round, bolts two feet apart. Upon each of these, only a small height above his head, were a very curious set of door-knockers. Each identical to its brother, they were shaped in the image of growling wolves, if wolves they could be called. For wolf indeed they looked, but something of them spoke to the Knight of deep, brooding, hidden evils and the worship of Satan. Their eyes were cold and lifeless as stone, but it seemed to the Knight these beasts would soon come to life should he reach forward for the knocker-rings which hung from the wolves’ mouths, and so would his hand be torn savagely from its wrist. This last grim element, these guardians of the castle, gave rise to an uneasy feeling in the Knight’s heart, whom had often, even at his youthful age, seen much upon the field of battle that would turn others green with sickness and fear, and he wondered at the hospitality of the lord and lady of this land and if he would not do better to see his way further westward and trust to God to lead him aright and safely until the passing of the storm or to bring him to the very doorstep of the warm home of a caring and generous peasant whom joyed at the arrival of guests. To the west he turned, and the night to him looked bleak. Despite the foreboding feeling he felt at the sight of this castle, he thought the westward road to be certain death. No other lights shined out in the night, and the snow only fell more and rose higher as the moments passed. No matter what the nature of this house, the Knight had no love for the thought of being frozen upon the roadside, only to be found many months later when the snow had melted and one of the fiefs happened upon his perfectly preserved corpse. So the Knight turned again to the castle doors and reaching forward rapped loudly three times upon the left door with the wolf-like knocker.