Dear Grandfather,
I am writing to you again today in the hopes that I may someday give you these letters. It also serves as a way of chronicling my journey since we were parted and the events in my life that led up to this quest of discovery. It has now been twelve months since we were separated and thoughts of what has become of you still haunt me daily. Are you well or has some ill come to you? Why did you leave upon your journey without telling me? If you quest out of anger and seeking retribution then could I not have helped you in this endeavour? Was I not wronged just as much or more than you? Oh grandfather, you know so much more about this wide world than I do! I am so in need your guidance right now. Hopefully someday…
I have travelled far in the past months and I have now reached the outskirts of the Sielwood Forest. It feels so good to be back amongst such vast enveloping beauty. While I enjoyed the experience of traveling over the plains I still feel most at home in the woods where you first began my teachings. Travel through the foothills of the Greypeak Mountains was bitter sweet. While I was awed by the expanse of them and have gained a new appreciation for the variety of Mother Nature’s creativity I must admit I could not relax enough to enjoy myself fully. My eyes were ever watchful for my newfound life enemy and I set many traps along the way in the hopes of picking them off one by one (the script here is noticeable deeper into the parchment showing the force with which the statement was written). My trapping skills have improved greatly since we last met, though I am still learning, I think you would be proud of me.
I suppose if this is to act as a personal journal as well then I should begin to record the events of my early life and the cause of the hate I now carry as a constant companion. I have dwelled long on these thoughts and believe I am finally ready to put them to parchment. I guess I am the Story Teller of our clan now, being as I may be its only survivor (tear stains mar the page here).
Our clan had (the word “Has” is scratched out here) lived on the edge of the High Forrest near the northern foot of the Greypeak Mountains for six generations. We were a sedentary people with a deep love of agriculture and the comforts of home. While we did trap the occasional wild beast from the forests most of our time and energy were spend nurturing the soils around our village and living off what the good soil could provide, and our beloved chickens. My parents were good sturdy people who worked the land faithfully and procreated joyously. I was the ninth of eleven younglings. The deep family secret (although not so secret really even without all the clan gossip), was my grandfather. Unlike every other recorded halfling in our rich history he was the first since our founding fathers, whom first migrated in order to form our clan, to choose a nomadic adventurous lifestyle. He was commonly referred to as “The Ranger” as if it were a sin to shake the roots from his feet and explore what else Mother Nature had to show him. Although absent for most of my young life,and much of my mothers adult years, he returned home when I was at the still impressionable age of twenty-five. While my father and the other elders viewed him suspiciously my mother welcomed him into our home. I have the feeling that she was the only one other than me who understand him. I think my mother may have been destined for much grander things were it not for her love of my father. While the other younglings in my family and the clan observed him as an oddity and his stories as nothing more that grand fantasy tales, good only to entertain by the fireside, I was fascinated by the lore that he shared with me. We soon became the best of friends and this led to many an excursion into the “wilds”of the High Forest. As the years past I learned much from my grandfather about nature and the ways of the forest. He also taught me the art of archery, trapsetting, and stealth. While it was obvious my father did not approve of my activities I believe mother kept him quiet for the most part. The game that I learned to trap and bring home with increasing frequency over the years nodoubt helped too as the stomach could often override most objections among my people. How differently I am forced to use my trapping skills now.
All was well within my world for many happy years. My youngest brother Bramble had even begun to travel into the forest with us during the last year before the tragedy. But then it all happened. The Orcs of the Greypeaks had been expandingfor decades but rarely entered the great forest. Then grandfather and I began to hear things from the forest of the damage the reckless Orcs were causing. We tried to warn the clan of the trouble encroaching on our little village but the elders would not listen and soon became angry at our pointless rumours. Grandfather and I began to travel farther into the forest to stalk and observe the Orcs as well as to set defensive traps to warn us of their encroachment. It was while we were away on one such expedition that the Orcs struck. The clan being a simple people were unprepared for the ferocity of the attack. With a single minded disregard for life the Orcs slaughtered everyone, even my dear Bramble. My beloved brother had begged to accompany us that fateful day but was refused permission by my father. Oh the fates were cruel that day…… (more tears stain the page) .
