The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: SuperMunch on July 23, 2006, 08:42:03 PM
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This is the second volume of Freldo's Journal and Letters started in this thread (http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=22233&start=1).
Lastest update:
Journal Entry: Help! Help! (http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=28275&posts=42#M228163) (/* March 1, 2007 */)
Journal Entry: Catching up (http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=28275&posts=41#M221725) (/* Febuary 6, 2007 */)
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Too many people I care about are dead.
Two in fact, but that's not the point - that's two too many. Imposssible to replace but I might as well forge friendships and bonds of trust of my own as I no longer can share theirs. It's a little strange that now I find myself in their shoes looking at younger versions of me - I now question which of those young faces sitting around and waiting for destiny to knock on their doors are really worth my time. Mostly, like I'm sure they did, I ignore the faces until I find one of them that might just be worth my time.
What am I thinking, I've met quite a few worth my time, the others I just wish gone.
Come to think of it lots of other people are dead to me - a concept initiated with Michael Adams, who does he think he is in questioning my interpretations? Anyway, the list is pretty large already - a good thing because it does save me quite a lot of work in the healing department. I might as well give up on my lesser healing spells because of my list - I find myself with a lot of spells left over whenever I adventure with one of these people.
The intresting thing is that once the person gets on the list, I see them more clearly. Perhaps I should put a few friends of mine on it just to see if it's the paper that grants me true perspective into their souls or it's the reasons that make me add their names that give me clarity.
My dead-to-me list is pretty well organized in it's standard 5" x 8" format - twenty pages are already taken by the list, the other eighty pages are for expansions to the list. I might publish the list in the future but for now, it's safetly stored away in a place not even master thieves would think to look.
Old friends flow away as time separtes us, I dearly miss a few of them and as we flow apart our ties become shallower and shallower until eventually there's nothing there anymore.
I stand alone on the shore of a dark desert, my path taken is scorched with meaning and deep thrusts of good and better emotions but I have nobody to share with. I do miss a companion but times are new and new bonds might build new safe harbors laced with the sweet smells of a morning mist.
As the old crazy man that stands next to most city's gates shooing away the newcomers, old memories lodged in my mind take the place of new ones.
So the old is out to make room for the new.
In a strange case of inversion, I found my new Cole - a halfling scimitar swinger called Lillian. Inversion because if sword swinging Cole had his halfling bard Acacea - I am a human bard Acacea with a sword swining halfling Cole. Highest combat discipline, a good sense of direction and of tactics, a good sense of humor and, what's most important, fire in her heart to live. I have even gone as far as to offer her Acacea's old corner in Cole's room, which is now mine.
Lyle, a halfling bard of Prunilla is also new, a great little poet and singer he has already tapped into the powers of song to move people - an ability that just now I'm able to grasp.
There are very few others but these are the ones that struck me the most - small stature and small quirks are always a plus for me but I have developed a dislike of folks that have trouble expressing themselves.
New is also my distrust of many people - since the war is over many have yet to find their place - I don't know how to trust, even those trusted before, without reason. I made a statue to try to illustrate of this concept out of twenty pounds of clay but I was left with a flake of clay so I baked it and donated it to the museum with the title "Trust is a Twenty Pound Block of Clay In The Hands of a Bard". There's a point in this anecdote but I just can't remember what it is right now...
Another new... Derrick, the old scoundrel, decided to make me his parter in the Arms. I heard he was back and even heard about his wish to gut me alive for taking charge of his Inn. I was taken by a wind of joy as I thought liberty and carelessness was around the corner, but alas, he made me his partner when I was ready to claim my portion of freedom again. He must really hate me to rob me of carefree living.
New to me also is the sights of love being trained on one at a time.
Nah, forget it, I'm aiming for a lot of women at the same time, each worthy of a lot more than just a glimpse, a wink or a smile but sometimes that's all we have time for.
Incorrigible is a good word for I know that I will always fall as much as I did when what I felt for Rhynn left me. Despite all the hatred that she openly displays for me she still listens, after some coaxing usually and she left me a gift given after her hatred bloomed that's worth more than her own weight in any metal.
Old is gone as the last petals on a dying rose yet new flowers bloom in the warm mornings of my spring. The hard part is deciding with flower to sniff and which to let grow more. Some I see but must wait more to sniff - these, when the time comes will be the sweetest and most precious of my deaths for the wildest and most seductive of roses are also those that bare the largest thorns - or so they say.
Strange how we desire, above all, that which we are denied. Or perhaps I'm just convincing myself of this to avoid the tender arms of that which I am not denied. What matters, at any rate, is that I'm back to what I do best - live with slow poison in me. Sweet is the fruit of passion, long is the warmth of love, sharp is the knife of it's edge.
Stupidly poetic I guess.
I'm back.
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Fair news reached my ear the other day.
All my hard work fetching, cutting and detailing gems for The Lady of Dreams has paid off.
Well, it wasn't really Her working, but I take what I can get and attribute it to the Lady.
I got a lot more than I expected.
But it's probably short term, one can't really have all good things for oneself.
At least something happened, better than nothing at all.
Anyway, after piles and piles of fine topaz, fire opals and alexandrite, the Lady has heard my prayers and generously dealt out her blessings for this foolish bard.
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As promised, I'm still caring for Cole's orphanage.
Seems like those kids pick up on sadness folks really quickly so whenever I go there, I work my sad or non emotions into joy and happiness - and the results are always spectacular.
The children there respond to me with shouts of joy and cries of pleasure as I tell them of all my merriest tales - they seem especially happy when I tell them of Lily the Little Warrior and Lyle the Little Bard. I hope they don't mind me making up stories about them but I swear that they aren't ever portrayed in behaviors that I haven't seen in them before - although Lily does stumble a lot in my tales.
Every visit is like a new dawn with sunlight for me. I take the headmistress as much gold as I can spare from my account (seems to be a lot of it recently, I seem to have run out of things to buy) and her soft motherly smile as I leave a heafty bag of good on her desk brightens my life. I have a lesser turnover than Cole ever did, but I don't worry to much as she made it clear that all contributions are welcome - so I donate food, drinks and even some equipment that I make (other than instruments), my meager attempts at pies and roasts are taken in like they were food given by the gods.
I find redemption for sins that I have yet to commit in singing with the children.
I see in their eyes torments of a bad past yet I see where at least three (Cole, Steel and Lyn) have gone and I rejoice for there is at least some good left in the airs of the world.
Speaking of which Lyn is quite the pretty girl - fair, sharp and with a gentle touch - I had better behave around her for feel of Steel's steel - not that I'd do anything evil to her. Actually, I might even do her some good... Oh yes, Freldo the bard, might do her a world of good... So young though... Perhaps in a few years, months, days, hours...
Well, time for the next delivery to the orphanage, I think I'll get those pies I bought and take them there!
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Kali and Derrick are on leave.
Jharl was taking a well deserved rest.
It seems I'm the only gatherer, hunter, cook and brewer the Arms Inn currently has.
Triba and Acacea drop things off from time to time - mostly hops and blueberries, the only ingredient I can't find by myself.
That said, it was a shock to me when, taking inventory, I saw the Arms Inn's warehouse is once again filled to the brim - even to the point of having WAY to many pies in stock.
Absolutely shocking considering I had no idea I had been wandering around so much.
I managed to get lost in Dregar (again, you'd think that they should put directions in some spots) and collected everything I could find until I made it to Karthy - once in Rilara, I got lost (again, the swamp of lost souls should be renamed "Freldo's Swamp" as I'm constantly lost in there) and gathered everything there also. When I finally reached Mistone, I decided to get lost (again, not really, but let's pretend I did) just to gather even more stuff.
Other than that, we're full of pies (thanks to Jil), roasts and breads - not to mention huge amounts of fruits, berries and fish.
I need to empty some of the crates out, a sale or two of sorts, as the warehouse has more than enough food for a small army (or four halflings).
It also goes to show that I have way too much time on my hands.
I emptied out my bag 'o food and stocked up on the best the Inn has to offer - the juciest roasts and the finest breads - I'm now a walking restaurant with at least two weeks of food on me at all times.
Good thing the bag is nice and sealed or else the hungry critters would swarm me regularly.
Now, as for my second favorite personal passtime - getting lost... err... Exploring!
I now believe I have explored every region of Mistone, Rilara and almost all of Dregar and even some of the dungeons I've taken a look.
My approach is simple, get there, get lost and don't try to find a way out until I need to.
To explore like this is invigorating - just me, my feet, the wind, the songs of nature and huge piles of licorice and gum arabic - I'm no fool to run around at normal speed and visible in most places, I'm usually hasted and invisible.
It's wonderful to be able to do such a thing - I am truly one with myself when the only sound around, other than the songs of the world, are those of my footfalls as I speed across the land. It reminds me of how good it is to be alive.
I become one with the world - the music of the land flows in my veins, the touch of the weave, the smell of the wind and creation blossoms before my eyes.
I have become a wanderer.
While others go back to their duties, I go forward to mine.
Ice, fire, sand and rain.
Trees, creeks, grass and seas.
Hearth, caves, bonfires and campfires.
Cities, swamps, towns and ruins.
Blood, water, wine and vinegar.
An embrace, a kiss, a glance and a smile.
Love, loss, sweat and tears.
I live it all.
A world of living poetry, unbridled love and flowing beauty just a step beyond the door.
I am so sorry for those who can't share this world - perhaps the one will be the first who can.
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As I pondered a conversation that I had with the one that I greatly desire - a truth that I had to let her know - I noticed that we were talking over the nature of freedom.
She said she isn't free.
I know I am.
Strange that this same theme repeated itself in a conversation I had with another.
Come to think of it, rare are the moments that I sit and talk anymore and when I do I seem to be involved in the same sort of discussion. Perhaps that's what the world is currently lacking, perhaps that's the problem I have transcended.
Anyway, I did a little research and found a few definitions...
Freedom, the condition of being free of restraints.
Free, not imprisoned or enslaved; being at liberty.
Liberty, the right and power to act, believe, or express oneself in a manner of one's own choosing.
"Freedom" is the state of being "Free", "Free" is the state of "Liberty", "Liberty" is being able to act "in a manner of one's own choosing".
Simple and shockingly easy for me to understand - but the rub may be in understanding what one's choices are.
I have a great many duties and responsabilities - be it run the Arms Inn, care for Cole's orphanage, seek ingredients to cook with, help my friends, better myself or touch the song that rules the world - but I accept these by my volition. In a way, freedom is a state of mind for abstract concepts don't usually manifest themselves in the physical world.
Freedom is the ability to face life and live it for what it's worth and to carry your world on your back at every step and not let it hinder your walk. Freedom is not giving a second to what others think or expect of you - to do as you please based on your own set of morals and principals.
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As I walked, there was a pebble in my shoe.
In my shoe, as I walked, there was a pebble.
A pebble was in my shoe as I walked.
As I walked, in my shoe there was a pebble.
In my shoe, there was a pebble as I walked.
A pebble, as I walked, was in my shoe.
Six permutations of a simple problem.
Pebble
Shoe
Walk
The solution would be just to remove the pebble and get going on your way.
However, sometimes, the pebble is imaginary and you'll only understand that the moment you chose to walk in another man's shoe and feel the presence of even greater pebbles in theirs.
That's what happened to me. The deep cut across my heart had healed but custom had kept me thinking it was still there.
As someone told me of his beating heart I no longer felt the pebble in my shoe, the thorn in my side - my heart crying.
What started me off on the defense, hiding in shadows, suddenly turned me around shined a bright light on the fact that I truly do not feel anything for her anymore. Burned log turned to dust and not even that remains after a nice strong wind - nothing is left and I can start new again.
Nothing remains, no longing, no love, no nothing - but that's a good thing for now I can build again on the reclaimed area.
I have even started doing that by offering a kind word, a smile, encouragement and a friendly poke - it does help that her venomous tongue has been stopped by force but perhaps, in the end, a new friendship can form.
Perhaps.
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Halfling farmers must have the best lives.
Besides being able to eat their own body weights per day without getting fat and being small enough to live in any houses (holes in the ground, trees, cute thatched cabins), they have the practical wisdom to recognize the divine grace that the land blesses them with.
Running through the halfling farmlands of Dregar I happened upon a small village's festival of the harvest - squash, pumpkins or something big, round and gourdy. It was obviously tasty for the merest whiff of it roasted filled me sudden hunger that I snuck around and nabbed one as I watched the festivities.
Their light, happy music marked with themes well known to belong to the little people and sounds of the land filled my heart with joy - the land had blessed them despite all the troubles and toils of the world. The gentle rolling of the waters of their village's brook, the merry sounds of birds at play, the song of the harvest - a fusion of sounds that painted their world in strokes of music. As I sat and ate the delicious stolen gourd I felt like time spun back to before I came to be - a time of peace, precious mirth and of truly happy people.
Young men and women, springing with their playful dance as they courted in the eternal play of love and life. Their elders watching their youngster's play clapping and laughing at each kiss they saw - age never dulling the knowledge that life must go on. Children and their pets, some larger than themselves, at the fringes playing tag, hide-and-seek and other games that are not unknown by those of other races. Bursting and blooming was their celebration.
I felt a drop of water on my arm and looked to the ashen skies to see great, billowing clouds of rain rushing in our direction. Towers of darkening fluffy cotton, reaching far into the ashes that block the sun and stars could be seen - my eyes reached far and saw the flashes of lightening amoung the clouds. As my eyes fell again on the halflings, their faces slowly turned to the skies as the happy music slowly died. By the time the rain started to fall, the festival was empty and only I stood out of doors, hood up and under a nice sturdy tree - good thing my coat is water-proof, one of those investments that I'll always be thankful for making.
Water poured upon the land as the day turned to night and night to day in the quick flashes that descended from the skies - the windows from the little houses were now with light.
In time the storm died out and the clouds cleared as though the sun was about to burst through the ash - to no avail as the cover was still too thick to be pierced by the shiny yellow face.
However a light did shine, the shiny faces of the halflings as they left their houses to rejoice the passing rain for their next crop was sorely in need of it. Their song started again, undulled by the damp and mud and they sung happily for the great wheel of life would go around at least one more time.
I slipped away, careful to not make my presence known and sped away with their joy in my ears as I hoped to return there for the next harvest - that pumpkin certainly was tasty.
/*
Ludwig Van's Symphony No. 6, Pastoral (Op. 68) - Movements 3, 4 and 5
I heard it coming to work today and the 4th movement's billowing heights of the clouds inspired me so much that I had to write about it. By the way, Howard Shore is a genius for using the same effect to describe Minas Tirith.
*/
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Before another round of getting lost in Dregar I sat on a rock near Haven playing my violin.
Just a very long sonata or two - nothing special, just passing the time while waited for the winds to change so that, when I portaled into Pranzis, my hair would blow just the right way to make it a dashing entrance.
It's funny that I learned to tell the weather patterns in Dregar from atop a rock in Mistone.
Anyway, I stood there passing time and one of those messenger birds flew right at me dropping a letter and a "gift" just before swooping away - I dodged the letter roll but ended up catching the "little present" on the side of my head.
As I cursed the bird - Expressie is so polite compared to some of these birds - and bent over to pick the scroll off the rock, another bird swept in aiming for my rear end! I heard it's squawk and flattened myself to the hard rock's surface - nose first - at an odd angle to keep an eye on the bird.
In my haze of blood and pain from my nose, I saw the bird beat it's wings a few times to gain altitude before taking a dive at me. It let loose it's scroll that hit me on the side with such shocking force that I felt I had been struck by an ogre's club.
I rolled in pain on the hard rock at what later I discovered was a cracked rib, a broken nose, bird doo-doo on the side of my head that didn't hurt, but was nasty anyway.
Before long another squeal was heard and with the little sight I still had through my pain, yet another aerial assassin was swooping in on me. This time, it's eyes were blood red and it's beak dripping in blood - well, not really, but I'd like to think it was.
I desperately tried to summon Smorg to shoot the bird before it came too close but ended up summoning a small white mouse that materialized on my back - it's incredibly hard to sing a spell when you're in that much pain. I blinked and shuddered for I knew what was going to happen next.
The hawk, seeing a tasty morsel so close to lunch time, prepared it's claws by dropping MY parchment into the nearby mud pool. I whinced and cried for Mommy as the bird of prey squawked as it's razor claws shined during it's descent at it's prey... on my back.
I passed out a second later.
I awoke the next morning with Expressie's gentle cooing as he pecked at my head - he was in the area and saw my broken, bloody, dirty body and swept in and decided to pull a grub out of my head.
I sent him away with a fumbled sweep of my arm that ended hitting myself on my broken rib, bringing forth a scream of pain from my lips - enough to thoroughly wake me up.
I gathered myself - almost literaly for I felt like I had been torn apart - and surveyed the area. Content to see that I had not been mauled by a bear I slowly made my way to the nearest temple that was open. Unfortunately it was a very, very, very long walk to Hlint - broken rib, broken nose, torn up backside, icky bird "present" on my head - as none of the other temples had a healer skilled enough to mend me.
I reached the temple and threw myself in the fountain to be rescued and tended to by the fair acolytes of Ilsare. Well, at least it was a happy end to two very bad days.
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On the hill I wait while the light snow dances on it's way to meet it's pairs at my feet. My hot breath causes heavy clouds of mist to form in front of me for an instant before the light but chill wind whisks it away.
I draw back my hood and gauge the land virgin from the recent snow - land not long ago lush green before the Towers of Ash declared the world theirs. Virgin under a light dust of white, as though I was am the first to set my eyes on it - all of it here for me, to dream, to describe.
A new world at every snow. A world ripe with new places to see.
With a smile I turn to the path traveled to this hilltop, my footprints slowly accepting their fate as the light whisps of snow slowly come to blend my trek into the terrain. For leagues I raced across the land in search of a place to survey it - soon my path here will be forgotten and the world will present me a fresh one to explore.
I gaze up to the snow falling and catch a few flakes on my tongue - tiny needles of cold mingled with ash from the dark eastern mountains. I close my eyes and let my warmth melt the falling snow - droplets of water that will one day flow back to the sea and start it's cycle again until winter doesn't lift anymore.
Winter... In old days this was mid-autumn, the trees would be turning their lovely shades of yellow and red and start giving up their leaves but now winter has already embraced the land and staked it's claim over creation until, perhaps, next spring. Slowly the snow will melt and green as the world's dawn will retake the land and the songs of nature will explode in it's full glory.
There will come a day, however, where winter will encamp here and taunt warmth. Parts of nature will wither and fade, parts will flee north to warmer lands. Life will find a way but gone will be the clever foxes and quick rabbits, the land will be taken by harsh beasts as the gentle ones will have fled the cold breath. One dawn, I hope, perhaps in my life - most likely in that of my distant children, the clouds will lessen and a sliver of sun will bless the land. Fell fangs will retreat to darkness as the children of the rebirth return to the place from which they came.
I lower my gaze to the horizon of trees, bare - except for the needles of the evergreens. A lonely bird calls and for an instant the silence is touched by song.
I crouch to touch the snow, drawing up a small amount to my lips to taste it's secrets and find that it hides nothing - the sweet taste of nothing for the world hides nothing from those that care to feel it. Nothing for everything is possible, a blank slate, a new canvas, fresh dawn.
I draw up my hood and quietly call the weave. The land seemingly blurs a little as I draw from it the slightest fraction of power. Song and spell spin around me as I feel the familiar tingling in my body - it's now time to move on again.
I race to where I have never gone before - everywhere.
A new world, a magical world.
Time to go exploring.
/*
I guess I should blame Vivaldi and Watterson today. As I listened to Winter of the Four Seasons, Calvin and Hobbes' final strip came to me as old emotions were slowly stirred.
I think I'll get my Der Ring des Nibelungen CDs out and see if that doesn't inspire something. ;)
*/
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I promised to keep Vol. Two a little less serious, but alas, good things took a spin for the best and I must dive again into meditation and reflection. I hope it's not for long, I still have a lot of silly and a few serious stories to tell. What started off as a great day turned into the day day Day - dream turned to flesh, whisper into words and "huh?" to "wow!". It started with my shared journal's tale, a learned a hidden secret that brought me wamrth and a lot of walnut oil. All was perfect as a precious object of unfathomable wealth came to me... and left... I won a great prize and made a few friends smile as we shared stories, poems and a song. What I had learned from Katrien and Acacea finally turned into my own, my art. I have seldomly felt so happy and bursting with joy - things were looking good. Little did I know that what was already at it's limit, was about to be filled and made to burst. In a way, I knew not to tred there and I knew what I was thinking - I knew that things would go the way they went if they were not stopped. I did try to stop it, three times, but somethings are simply too hard to resist and when things spin in such a way, better to let it fulfill itself than suffer for the big fish that got away. Ah, I knew well that from those waters my thirst would be quenched, it's wind would fly me away to far away lands, it's searing fire would fuel my soul and my earth would quake as it's heaves would move me in new ways. Ilsare has blessed this, her humble bard - for I shook, I burned, I flew and I drunk. A lot is to be said, a lot more to be written but I lack the appropriate ways of saying it except for this: I am a very happy guy.
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Unusual.
I awoke in the deep of night for my mind had presented me with a play, not very common. So consumed I was that I sat to write it down before wear and other thoughts brushed it aside.
... a very long entry follows ...
Maybe it didn't happen... Maybe it did... Maybe it will... Who knows?
Perhaps I should share it, perhaps not.
At any rate, back to bed I go.
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After a day of uneasy dreams, Freldo awoke to find himself transformed into a monstrous vermin.
Nah, not really, but I was so drained that even if I did, I wouldn't have cared.
Actually, I awoke with a white stag licking me. Seemingly someone thought it was funny to dribble honey as they left - good thing stags aren't bears or else I would have turned into a monstrous vermin.
In the middle of the woods of Rilara, leaves and dirt sticking to me, I waved the stag away and rolled into the creek... Or so I thought there was a creek there.
The same villainous honey-dribbler thought it would be funny to drag me away from the creek and tie my feet together. Luckily my hands were still free but my torment didn't end as I dragged myself, scratching every inch of exposed flesh, with great pain and effort, to the wet margins to get my dagger to cut my bonds.
Just out of my reach off the forest floor, my dagger and everything else I carry, was hanging from a nice fat branch - Honey-dribbler, leg-binder was overly playful.
I groaned as I gave up for a moment and decided to wash myself off - a bad move. Cool stream turned ice cold with the end of day - cramps... cramps... cramps... my cuts and s...es decided to remind me that dragging through the forest was a bad idea. I rolled out of the creek in a knot and all the dirt and leaves that had washed off suddenly decided that I was in need of a hug and clung on to my freezing, cramped, scratched, knotted self.
Honey-dribbler, leg-binder, tree-climbing-coat-hanger, if still around, was certainly getting a laugh out of the hole I was digging myself into.
Shivering I warmed up and decided I needed to get my stuff down.
With great determination, I stood (and fell flat on my face), grabbed a branch (that broke) and with great skill (hitting my head with the branch, after which it broke) failed to get my stuff.
Furious, a good thing as it warmed me up a great deal, I sought another branch and just threw it at my stuff hanging from the branch.
Fortune, which had smiled to me at the birth of day and allowed me to live my dream - which eventually led me to being in the middle of the forest at the mercy of some jester, smiled again and I knocked my rapier loose.
Quickly, I moved to cut my bonds and, although it is a sharp weapon, cutting wet cords takes a long time so I sat and tried to free myself. I jumped a few seconds later as ants decided that my rear end would serve as a feast.
It was not a good day for me.
I gingerly sat in the creek, risking and being rewarded with more cramps to go at my bonds.
After burning my feet a little, I freed myself. Jumping, hurling rocks, swating with branches at my gear, I managed to grab it all after a while.
Preparing to leave, my eye caught sight of a lovely pink blossom, playfully hiding under a few leaves.
Memories of dreams, actions rushed back as thoughts of uneasy sleep, s...es, cuts, burns, bites and aches slid away.
A lovely blossom to remind me that, despite the jester's prank, some little things are what makes life worth it - I cleared the area around the blossom letting it see light unobstructed and left with a content smile.
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I need a few days to myself, to find myself in my own sea of trouble.
I'm off to Dregar's northern farmlands and Journalie and Expressie are going to stay, I wish for distance from thought and contact for the next few weeks and, perhaps months. The Inn will be fine and I will return for it's next opening but after the meeting with my companions I wish to be as far away as possible from all that I know.
Lily, my crazy little pack halfling drew out of me words that troubled me later. Perhaps my jest held a deep truth, perhaps frivolous and superficial feelings are true - if so, I am doomed for another fall and loss. Lady Reventage's words are my guide at this - we hurt so much because we feel so deeply and truthfully - it may be the Lady's way.
It is partially for this reason that I must leave, to find the truth in this. Is it love or not? Do my troubled dreams equate to deepness or the skin's desire? Am I regretting what I have done, maneuvered myself into such a situation, with less noble intentions, only to find myself trapped by bonds I did not wish?
This trouble has driven me away and I'm starting to feel lonely, I start to miss times past and wonder where it all went. I have become distant from some I care about - well, that's not all my fault, some of those I care for have turned into sad wraiths and distance from them is probably best.
I need a holiday, a very long holiday but I do expect to be back.
Halflings, gentle farmer folk, fresh air, rolling hills, lush green, cool creeks, songs from the birds and villages, the weave of nature, song and magic. Living off the land and trying not to get sick from eating the wrong berries. I'll take what I can get to gather myself and step out of my own shadow that I reside in. I have much to do but right now I have little patience for it.
I've left instructions for Lilly the Hostess and the flier for the next opening, along with the updated ledger.
Perhaps I'll know what I want when I return, perhaps I know already but need to be alone to let it go for despite all my want, it can never be mine. I'd fight for it but I do not know if it wants to be fought for - I cannot have what doesn't wish to be mine.
I have tasted the fruit, felt it's sweetness, reveled in it and wanted more, but it will never be mine in the way I want, the way that I need it to be.
In writing this I have discovered my truth. I know it deeply and now I know what I must do, fall.
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I stepped off the boat in Leilon after my long trip that I thought had recovered me.
Foolish wish as very little has changed. I may have shed off my hopeless feelings of love - still to be tested, of course - but the world is still the same and my vivacity still struggles to surface.
In my reclusion from the world of adventure, I found peace, music and myself but my heart is still lonely. I've turned 27 years old - so many years since I was called - yet my greatest accomplishments are naught but flakes of snow in a drift, my name and 11 gold pieces is enough to buy a bag of salt.
I touched an intresting idea in my absence - as I see it, long gone are the days where folks had a goal or objective - now we have no more nemesis, no more anti-life. We live to see the next morning, each one creating their own little dramas to make life pass a little more intresting. I have a deep wish that the MAF's Estibana becomes a terrible thing. Perhaps an ancient god that rests there will be unleashed and all the remaining world will unite and have a goal - but I fear that it's treasures aren't of the "AAAAH!!! RUN AWAY!!!" kind.
Alas... Here I am, duty and responsabilities pulled me back to Mistone.
Perhaps I'll stay for a while - most likely not.
-
Lily insisted that we go for a trip around Dregar so while she's packing her forest of branches that she has been chopping for Lyle, I'm writing in my journal.
In my head, I am begining to sound like a spoiled child - too much is wrong and there's too little for me to care about and the only two reasons I persist are because of the Arms Inn and the MAF thing. Other than those two, I could leave for good and start a new life elsewhere.
I had a quick chat with Jennara on the state of things and I felt it strange that a Rofirien monk and an Ilsarian bard could agree that the shape of the world goes from bad to worse. Long dead are the days of pulling together and working for the common good - now everybody has their own agenda or forms their own groups with their own secret agendas. Personal gain and personal issues are at stake now, leadership has been dissolved amoung a horde of the powerful that take what they wish and leave none for others, true heros are either diminished, missing or gone. A wind of change is brewing but it's virtue is not wholesome - vice swells in it's interior as it prepares it's strike.
I am becoming a law abiding citizen - against my own will - because seemingly nobody else is willing to follow rules, a bastion of law and order in one that lives and breathes chaos. We need guidance, leadership and strong hands - not exceptions, lazy tolerance nor eyes swayed by cries of those that are weak, stupid or simple.
Cole's orphanage now receives a great deal of what I produce here, too few clients to leave a lot of food in the gnomish crates, half of my wealth goes there as well but I am not well enough to be with them. Poor Cole and his biography that his bard cannot write for I now lack the spark to write it - gone, no breath resides in this fire anymore, tainted are his memories in my thoroughly washed mind. Never will I forgive myself for this, a piton in my descent into oblivion.
I drain away but my face still stays - Lily, who's now starting finally starting to remove the branches she hid under my bed, is the only one to feel my bitterness. Possibly the only one to see how little I care anymore, my world is the Inn I manage and my personal obsessions - fishing arrows that shock the fish into submission, that's my new stupidity.
Poor Lily, I blew up on her while we waited to leave for Lannisport. I meant every word of it, but I was to wide in the swing of my sword, she is not leeching me nor taking me for an idiot - she's just impossibly impulsive and she considers me greatly so she treats me like an idiot, I do the same with her so I can't blame her.
You know, she is the only person I use a shorter name instead of the full one - other than those that I don't know their full names. "Lily" for Lillian, an incredibly subtle form of affection, one lost on all that I know.
Well, I ready myself to leave again, a direction I take with joy in my heart but the dread shadow of returning is slowly pushing my joy to return into the depths. No goal is left, no great strife, loss of focus and my sun sets, one day I fear it will not rise again.
-
Wouldn't it be nice to have a perfect world?
Lizardmen and bugbears that just gave me their money purses and went home to their families.
Blueberries that didn't require creative use of spells or a ranger to reach.
Goblins that would just give up and run away when they saw me.
Madmen that weren't mad, just... perhaps... upset.
Peppermint that isn't next to killer shorties.
Sand that wasn't guarded by killer tallies.
Boxes and crates that held infinite items.
Badgers that didn't want to eat me alive.
Ogres with soft spongy clubs.
Boots that didn't wear out.
...
Pìe trees.
Then again, if things were perfect, I'd be king of Freldopolis, the City of Freldo, a magnificant spire of pearl and silver, built from the finest stone hewn by the greatest dwarven craftsmen, nestled in the Grey Mountains. The greatest selling points, besides the magnificent view and luxury, is that from the top tower there is a clear, long range trebuchet shot to Hlint - to lob a massive stone or two per day to keep the folks on their toes. Perhaps hit a house every week or so just to keep the housing prices down.
Ah... The thrill of the whoosh of massive stones flying through the air.
One moment a bench with two folks sitting on it... the next a crater with two bloodstains on it.
But I digress from my reason of writing this...
It would also be so nice if things were a little different but then again, I'm very glad certain things are the way they are.
I started wandering to rid myself of the impossible and I have been away ever since but chance showed me that I did manage it but I still adore her, perhaps more than ever. I did manage to get over my feelings - perhaps it never passed beyond deep infatuation and I was wrong about what I felt, I'll never know for sure but what matters is that I care deeply for her.
She moves in mysterious ways, with strange rituals and wierd manners - things that never cease to enchant me despite bluntness and sometimes nausea. A true muse is her title for me, to decypher her is impossible and undesireable, to watch her brings new meanings to this bard.
It's best we stay as such, a muse and her bard.
I've even gained enough inspiration to write in my journal again because of her.
Funny.
-
Oh, how I miss the dawn of my life, My precious childhood, The years that won't come back anymore. The loves, the dreams, the flowers Those lazy afternoons Under the shadows of trees, Sitting peacefully. ... On an iron greatsword I found I enchanted with electricity and shaped it into a my blade - a fun and overly big blade for me to swing around dangerously... shaped like Wicked, it's known as Wicket. Then Treana's house is going to be reformed so she needed me to pick up Cole's old gear and I find his old iron greatsword with a nice cold enchantment... He had no name for it, according to his notes, so I was calling it Pre-Wicked before giving it a name by Cole's tomb, the Norseblade. I like that name, the Norseblade - a greatsword that cuts raw fire and freezes the flames in mid air. Anyway, Wicket and the Norseblade - my origins all over again, all I need now is a nice platinum armor - perhaps a chain shirt, a bunch of strength rings and I'm back to twenty to twenty two year old Freldo, same crazy as before but with a really, really, really big glowing sword. Ah, the times when spirits were brave, The stakes were high, Men were real men, Women were real women And small furry creatures from Dregar were real small furry creatures from Dregar. I must be growing old to think that the past holds the best virtues of my life but perhaps in discovering where I came from and remembering the kind hands that presented themselves, I'll find a way back to that cesspool place known as Hlint. Alas, the blade is still not my calling but it's something fun to do while I spend my time now that I'm free of yet another commitment due to an idiot's lack of attention - no more Estibana, yew staff and sea for me.
-
The greater the risk, the higher the reward.
Basic law of the universe - if you want a higher pleasure, you'll need to take greater risks.
Running around with Lily, Ael and Sahala in the Great Rift for diamonds is risky but the pay off was good, Lily's going to make me an adamandite rapier for free and I'm going to get a discount on it's silver enhancement and I'll also get a nice fire enhancement for it. Greatswords are nice but they're a tad to heavy for me to carry around on serious business - speaking of which, I might need a good buckler or medium shield to go with the rapier.
Then there's the greatest risk which grants me the greatest reward. It's funny how simple words explain so much - I could have explained all that I feel but I just left it at three little, tiny words.
I could have told her that I saw passion in her eyes, life on her lips and the world in her embrace.
I could have said she's given new meaning to my life, given me a glimmer of joy, a whisper of hope.
I could have said nothing and she would never know what she means to me.
I could have not spent words so plain for feelings so complex and confused things even more.
I might have gotten things wrong, I spoke out of turn, I said too much.
I know that was I spoke was not the truth but a simplification to grace the moment - she means a great deal to me, far more than simple words yet they seemed the best ones at the time.
It's for the best that, in the end, we are such close friends. All our shared instants are worth more to me than all my riches and name - I wouldn't trade what we have for anything, not even for the promise of true love.
Somethings are so complex, but the deeper the web, the greater the risk and the larger the rewards reaped.
-
I've always heard that the moment before you die, you see your life flash before your eyes... and then you lose 21 grams.
I didn't die, so I didn't see my life flash nor did I lose 21 grams so I had better lay off of pies.
However, I learned a few things about me that I never knew...
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Into the gates of death I was ready to enter, not a whisper of remorse or deeds left undone. I was ready to die, to shuffle off this mortal coil and embrace sleep with the chance of dream.
I admit I was not completely ready for this, I was frozen when first thrown in the cell but nothing that the flame that drives this machine couldn't melt. I stood with others but my soul was not quenched nor my fire out. I tossed and teased and would have done more if bread and circus didn't show it's ugly head.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
As in that poem I wrote so long ago, when I was 22, believing that I could face fear and death but never doing so. I found that when faced with the end due to slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, I stood. Despair and fear gone, as was hope and prayer, I stood alone unbroken, unyielding and unbowed.
There is no such thing as a silver lining, ever dark cloud is dark from end to end - the lining is what we attribute to it. I see not silver but gold, I fathomed depths undying, I will see joy until my final breath - may the Lady of Dreams allow me the grace of a laugh when my life spins itself over.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
The mind killer that is fear. When ice melted I burned brighter than before, fear's little deaths touched me no more - drained over and through me and I turn to look back, only I remained.
Measures of caution and care are never too much but fear of death and pain that gripped me no longer have sway over me. Fear of spiders, snakes and small furry bloodthirsty creatures with razor sharp teeth and claws are still here, but the fears of mortality are dead.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I have become what I wanted - master of my fate, helmsman of my life, furnace of my drive, fuel for my desires, sails of my love, captain of my soul.
I embrace and accept what I am become.
Dare tread over this for reasons unfair.
/*
Text in italics is Invictus by William Ernest Henley. They aren't from the poem Freldo mentions, he's not that good a poet.
*/
-
/*
This is all out of character, by the way...
I wrote something and wanted to share or else I'd end up throwing it away, as I do with half of what I write as Freldo. It turned out a lot better than I imagined and thought some of you would like to read it.
It was going to be Freldo's entry if he had swung at the gallows.
*/
The hidden sun rises in Leilon as the land yawns and stretches to begin a new day. Today, however, a sad shadow crawls from corner to corner, ill news has reached town and some have already heard it.
The crying of a woman is heard from afar, she has received a box and news that her son is no more. Snuffed is his flame and cold his blood. Despair are her tears as she hugs the blue stained coat that wrapped the box. A memory of something her son told her flashes to her mind as her husband and other children and grandchildren rush to her cry, she hugs them all and tells them she loves them before showing the scarlet stained coat. Cries echo gently through the cold, new morning - another of Leilon's children would not return from Dregar.
...
A pretty woman, awakes and heads off to the inn she works at and hears the shadow of news upon reaching it's door. She silently enters, heads to her desk and pulls out a simple folder written "In Case Something Happens". She looks at it for a little while, admiring how many times it's been opened and closed by the one that will not return again - he was always adding and subtracting things from that folder. Never once did he let her see what he was doing with the folder, as though he wanted it to appear grow and shrink magically.
A slight smile comes to her on remembering the fellow that was once a patron, then employee, manager and finally partner. He never stopped charming her, the last time they met he gave her a rose and told her it was picked from gardens of a land far away. Always traveling, always returning with a full pack of ingredients, a smile and always something nice for her - be it a flower, an apple he found to be perfect or a little jewel, just for her. But not this time, his only present was the news she heard.
She snaps back and looks at the envelope he had told her only to open if he was never to return, deliver the letters and follow the instructions.
With a tear, she opens the folder and pours out it's meager contents on the table - three letters - one written fresh, a small key and something that looked like his last will. One of the letters was to his roomate, one was to someone she didn't know by name but was sure the mail would deliver the last was for his mother. The key was labeled as being to the chest at the foot of his bed.
The will simply had, "Cole's orphanage gets my money. Give the spare keys to Jharl, Kali or Derrick and my gear goes to the temple in Hlint. To you I leave my memoirs and journals, may they also keep you warm on lonely winter nights."
...
'He hasn't been around for a while, I wonder what happened to him,' thought a quiet, pretty half-elven girl as she prepared the table for the children's breakfast.
It had indeed been a while, last time he arrived he had taught her how to bake bread, how to sing and how to wield a rapier. She wasn't very good at what he tried so hard to teach her but he told her that if she practiced, she'd turn into a fine cook, bard or, what was it he said about the rapier, 'toothpick wielder'. A warm smile comes to her lips as she slowly raises an unconsious finger to touch them. Just then, one of the women comes into the dining area, a sad shadowd across her face.
The news comes and washes over her tranquil face. After so much in her life, she thought that she wouldn't ever feel again what was tearing at her. Slowly, silently, she sits on the bench. A flicker of her eyelids, as if dispelling some illusion, followed by a slow, delicate blink are all she can manage.
Turning, she finds herself alone again, the woman had left to tell others of the sad news.
A new kind of loneliness surges in her as she returns to her duties. Mist of warm memories surround her as the stranger, turned friend, turned teacher would not return.
...
A small blue bird, a customary sight seen on a tree outside an Inn in Leilon, frolicks happily, despite the cold. A foolish bird, full of energy, life and a strange outlook on life as the one who cared for it.
It chirps happily at the closed window, waiting for a new letter for it to deliver or for a treat, the fellow in there always seems to have a treat for it.
Chirping and skipping from branch to branch the little bird looks at the window and sees that lady that occasionally... usually opens the window in the morning. It stops it's happy dance and cocks it's head to look at her.
The lady looks at it for a moment and shakes her head slowly and sadly, never letting her eyes leave the little bird.
The silly bird seems to understand her, chirps a final time the same happy song that the blue fellow used to whistle to call it and flys off.
Perhaps that nice elf lady with the little girl near the big stone building can care for me now, she certainly is nice to be around.
/*
Two journal entries today, by the way, here's the other one
Journal Entry: Unconquered (http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=28275#M192006)
*/
-
Dearest Mother,
Three months after the party the family threw me for my thirtieth birthday, I stand at the Lordindar docks. As you will remember, I was in a terribly foul mood back then and that still hasn't left me.
An old man reflected myself when I first thought of writing home. As we sat together near the dock, I heard him tell me of love withered, friends long dead, being first and being last and things that got lost on the path. In a way, the old man was myself, bitter at how life spun our dice and how lost and hopeless we felt. The old man was over sixty, I am slightly over thirty and I've become old at such a young age.
I'm upset at things I cannot change, at people, at chance and at fortune but most of all I'm upset with how I've lost my way and let my own hatred and dislike of others guide my actions in the past months... perhaps the past year.
I stand here with two choices, either I go and seek out more information and perhaps participate in the solution of a problem that will benefit someone I don't care about, surrounded by people that I wish dead just for the chance to shine or should I fade away, perhaps for good or perhaps to find myself?
I choose the harder of the paths, to discover who I left behind, which part or parts of me are still wholesome and which are corrupt by stench of foul winds. The foolish will call this running away but they will never understand as wisdom is their mortal enemy, this is my time for myself - I'm at my peak, at the threshold to maturity yet this is my last chance to seek penance for follies, bad decisions and perhaps find who I am.
I see two ships in front of me, one leads me to Arabel, the other to northern Dregar, land known, well loved and explored but my departure is not to quest nor hearth, it's towards oblivion so neither is suitable. A third ship will have to be my ticket, hopefully one that needs my services and perhaps lead me to new waters where none know me and I can regain what I have been raped of and perhaps obtain sweet forgetfulness of my assailants.
Many times I wished to have died in Pranzis that day, many times I wanted to depart the world at that moment - perhaps that's what pushed me over the edge, to where I am now.
Either I leave for a while and seek Freldo the Bard or I stay and disappear forever.
I send you this letter to let you know that I'll be away for a while, I'll try to keep an eye on our family, if I can.
With love,
Freldo.
P.S. Nevermind that I never did send you this letter and it's now over a year old but safe as it was at the very beginning of my travel's log. Since I managed to find myself, I'm delivering this to you by hand when I reach Leilon.
-
I wrote my mother a letter telling her that I'm going away for a while, strange how things fell into place in a nice way before I set off on this crazy trip - I left Lily the keys to the Leilon Arms Inn and I locked my things up very tight, as though I knew I wouldn't be back for a long while.
It is true what I wrote her, I feel disconnected from everybody that surrounds me - some of them I cannot bear, some I'm just not interested in and some, maybe most, I simply cannot empathize with. That's nasty if you're a bard - I have no affinity anymore and I'm alone in the middle of a crowd - and I hate that and I need distance to refocus. A walkabout, starting by sea because I'm tired of so much running.
However, if I could place my misery on a single person, it would be Silver Tongue's consort. If I were to return she would probably not be dead as her role in this world is to keep me away from it - but alas, her dainty falsehoods and wicked trickery have gained her acceptance and love of a great many so I am obviously wrong and the vast majority right. Simple minds led by an escort dressed in angel's garbs. However, I comfort myself in the knowledge that she will die in the end of her life, much like I will.
So I travel and try to leave behind my bitterness perhaps seek forgiveness for my sins and a balm for my soul. I might be the same if and when I return and I might not if my will has fallen completely prey to the herd. Maybe wickedness and superficiality won't harm me so much but if it does I'll just head out again and depart for good, it's not like I won't find someone to soothe in this vast suffering world.
Two ships discarded, I'll go search for a ship at the "wrong" side of town. I may not have any sailing experience but I'm sure my singing can fill a sail or two, my cooking isn't that bad and I'm pretty sure that I can keep a bunch of men happy during a long sea voyage. Perhaps I can pay for my passage - I'm pretty sure some captain might appreciate a cabin boy... err... helper.
/*
Today's other post: Letter Home: A Terribly Delayed Delivery (http://#M199819)
*/
-
On the Bonny Anne:
- Day 1
Sturdy ship, Captain Red, mangy crew, job as cabin boy and entertainer and I took on the name Arnold Quaid.
I picked this ship out because of the name and the captain looked pretty agreeable, sharp fellow with a charming smile and strong arm - something about heading out to trade with some far away islands to the north west, skirting the coast of Dregar.
- Day 7
Made some friends with the crew. They're not really mangy, they're just "weathered", the men aboard are well paid and have sailed with Captain Red for a while. Even those that haven't have a lot of respect and loyalty to him, kinda strange for such tough men on a trade ship.
I've started to learn how to manage the tackles, ropes, knots and sails.
I met a fellow from Leilon, Sal, and we've become friends, he's a very agreeable fellow with a sharp mind and skilled at repairing the sails - luckily he didn't recognize me, so I'm still the lowly cabin boy.
- Day 9
I said he didn't recognize me, but I was wrong - he recognized me from my trips to the market in Leilon to buy stuff for the Arms Inn and now I'm the head cook, cabin boy and singer.
The crew are starting to look out at the horizon in search of something, the crow's nest is now manned at all time during the day. Perhaps they're afraid of pirates or something.
- Day 19
Just my luck, Captain Red is a pirate/bounty hunter and the Bonny Anne is his vessel.
Yesterday a ship was spotted and a cry rung from the crow's nest down to the main deck, "A ship, north north east, sailing north north west." Pandemonium broke out as all, including myself, were put to work to gather all the wind possible to speed us towards the ship.
At first I didn't understand what was going on, I thought we were supposed to meet that ship but as we drew nearer and I could see the crew strap on leather bracers and draw short swords, rapiers and daggers, I quickly understood that I was along for the ride of a lifetime.
One of my assistant cooks, Bill - skinny and great to talk to - was at the fore along with the captain and the first mate, Skyle. He was staring at the other ship by talking to a massive albatross (apparently, Bill is a ranger-type). "It's definitely the Princess' Barrel, a good ship captain, well manned though" were his words as the captain turned to me and saw surprise on my face. "Arnold, either you're with us or I'll just throw you overboard and make do with Bill's cooking" were his words to me.
I gulped and told him I'd fight, if I only had a rapier - which he promptly pulled out of a cache in the rails and handed to me. "Don't get too hurt, our healer isn't a very quick one so avoid getting stabbed, poked and slashed."
I gulped again as I held that excuse for a weapon in my hand, mind you I only found out that we were the pirates and I balked at the idea of taking arms against a merchant ship. "If I may, I've had a brush with the law already, apparently I killed a man, and I don't intend on getting into even more trouble..." I started.
Captain Red raised his hand interrupting me. As he lowered his hand, he stared at me, Bill, the albatross and the first mate stood there laughing at me.
"You're not very attentive are you?", said the captain.
"Not at all, I have a sharp eye that tends to keep me in trouble most of the time. From your face you mean to tell me you're not a pirate?"
"Cabin boy, I have hunted pirates and bounties with these men as my crew for years, we take their ships and crew and do with them as we wish, as long as we bring the captains and some of the seedier crew and other criminal bastards to justice. I don't take naive land folks as crew that often so consider yourself lucky... and thank Sal for recognizing you and recommending you aboard, Bard." He turned without emotion and set his eyes out over the horizon while the first mate and Bill laughed harder. I can only imagined the albatross laughed so hard at my perplexed face it fell overboard and drowned as I couldn't see it anymore.
I turned away slowly, returning the rapier to the place the captain had pulled it and headed back to my trunk for my own weapon, the fine rapier Lily had made me, and my fighting gear.
So there I was, surrounded by at least a hundred battle hardened sailors and bounty hunters, all eagerly awaiting the other ship to come into range. The wait dragged on so I struck out a song and called some wind into our sails, just for the sake of it.
Crossbow range came and shots were fired from deck to deck, all of it from their deck to ours. I noticed that the men weren't crowding together but standing together in small groups behind large wooden planks, latter I learned that these planks would be placed between both ships for boarding. Instictively, I took out my bow and hasted myself - from a safe position, I started firing my fire arrows at the other ship but was rudely interrupted after firing off a few. "We're going to take that ship whole, don't set it on fire." a gruff voice bemoaned me. I switched to my conventional arrows and riddled their deck with as many arrows as possible, to little effect as I could see that the other crew was huddled behind shields and planks.
Silence after I put my bow away to prepare to cross to the other ship, cheers and cat calls were nowhere to be heard, the men were slowly bunching near the railing closest to the Princess' Barrel, arms in hand and steely determination in their eyes.
I shrunk under their preparations, being one to usually lead a charge (or stand back and let more foolish ones rush first and come in a close second) I didn't know what to do. I prepared myself, drew my rapier and prepared for death on the high seas.
A loud crash as both ships struck their sides and a loud roar from the Bonny Anne's crew as the grapples were lowered onto the other ship - men flooded across to take the Princess' Barrel and the ringing of steel, cries of war and moans of pain shattered the still air.
I hastily crossed and began surging the opposing sailors into submission while weaving through their ranks poking fresh holes into some pirate's holey shirts.
It was not until I managed to reach the other ship's opposing rail that I saw my wake of devastation, eight dead at my stabs and song, twelve others fallen and injured and a large hole opened in their numbers where I was - seemingly they didn't expect such fierceness, and to think that on land I never was that much of a fighter. My allied sailors were just starting to cross onto the ship and I was already on the other side of it, quite a a bad tactical position to be in.
From their numbers, a few were staring at me and others were trying to get away to turn and face the other "easier" troops from the Bonny Anne. From their number a well dressed man with a large cutlass pushed himself through and challenged me to single battle. It was a tough fight... nah, not really, big cutlass against my speed and quick rapier made him into a pin cushion in no time.
"Arnold! Arnold! Arnold!" were the calls from the Bonny Anne's crew as part of the Princess' Barrel's crew threw their arms down and surrendered - it seems that I had taken down their captain and now they had nothing to fight for, the smarter of the crew surrendered to live to fight another day - the dumber ones were quickly disposed of.
Some of the pirate ship's remaining crew offered to work for Captain Red in exchange for not being imprisoned, others accepted shackles and were led to the Bonny Anne's brig. Seeming there's a code of conduct among pirates and privateers on the high sea, life here is a lot more precious than on land. I don't know what deals were struck to guarantee the fidelity of the surrendering crew but I clearly saw that the ones that submitted to service were quickly welcomed by the Bonny Anne's ranks.
I won a sea battle and as a reward, I was given five iron coins by Captain Red. I wonder if they're worth anything back on land.
- Day 20, Bonny Anne
Two ships now, a smallish crew on the Princess' Barrel, a medium sized cargo transport ship with nice sized stores and quite a compliment of food, I had better transfer some over. The gold and riches have already been brought aboard, loot is kept and divided by the captain, I wonder how he keeps tabs on it.
They still don't let me work in peace. I killed a man, so what, I've killed a lot more men on land? Get back to your chores and let me to mine.
I need to talk with Sal to see if he knows my real name, if he does, I'll bribe him with some extra food if he keeps it a secret.
- Day 28, Princess' Barrel
Severe weather and I'm stuck on this slow thing as I was transferring good from it to the Bonny Anne's stores.
A month at sea and I've made friends with all of the crew - even with some of the new crew taken from the Princess' Barrel. Most are men that have found no work on land and must now scrape a living from the sea with their meager talents and, perhaps, some fighting skill.
Playing with the iron coins the other day drew some ugly faces from the Bonny's crew - Bill explained that the coins are worth a lot at the end of an expedition, the captain gives a reward to each man based on their iron coin count. Lucky me, it seems that I was the quickest ever to receive five coins.
- Day 36, Shore Leave!
Some place that I don't know the name of and two gals that I'll never see again. Stretch my legs on a surface that doesn't rock that much.
Princess' Barrel was left at the dock for selling, the prisoners were sent to jail and the ones that helped out have been set free, a few of the better sailors have been allowed to stay aboard and become part of the crew. The Princess' Barrel's captain's body was turned in and a nice, tidy bunch of coins was given to each man.
- Day 50, Bonny Anne
Sal and Bill have been teaching me nautical speak... or at least some nautical speak, too many words for me to learn, it's like a new language.
This ship is a corvette, quick in the water, agile in maneuvers and easily managed by crews of 40 men but holds around 200 men (we're at 125 men currently).
The Princess' Barrel was a medium sized merchantman converted into a raider - big holds but not as quick and definitely not as agile.
- Day 59, Bonny Anne
First big storm for the past two days, I threw up so much that the last times I heaved, nothing came out.
I heard that drinking heavily helps to drown out the sickness.
- Day 70, Bonny Anne
We caught sight of the pirate ship Intrepid, but we're almost at the same speed, this is going to be a very long chase.
- Day 71, Bonny Anne
Still far from the Intrepid but I've been asked to sing for more winds, superstition gives the men hope that I can summon more winds.
- Day 73, Intruder
After a day and a half singing off and on, we caught up to our goal.
The fighting was fierce and once again I led the charge, it seems that spells are a rare commodity at sea.
They quickly struck their colors when the Bonny's crew flooded over after me, their captain demanded single combat with Captain Red - a request that was promptly accepted and within a few minutes their captain submitted while Captain Red stood over him, both injured - I quickly took care of them. As before, the losing crew was offered the chance to join the Bonny and once again, this option was accepted by all but the stupidest. The first mate has assumed the Intruder with a good number of men to watch over the turned until we reached port.
Horror struck when we went under the deck to see what the ship was carrying, other than wares, there was a small group of slaves. Chatter rose among the men until Captain Red decided that since they were fresh out of port, we should turn and head back to where they were snatched from.
I'm staying aboard to cook and care for them along with Bill - seemingly the only one that speaks their language.
Three iron coins for leading the charge, gave both to Gallen, sturdy man that lost his hand in battle, I'll make him a good supper one of these days.
- Day 79, Freeing Slaves (++)
We reached the place where the Intruder had taken the slaves - a parched and desolate land beyond the tiny port, as I looked out over it I wondered if it slavery was a better life for those men, women and children. Thankfully, they answered my query by disembarking full of joy and with a song on their breath, wisdom and oneness with the land despite strife is a lot better than slavery, I guess.
Nice place to stay though, a shabby little town but we sold some of the Intruder's stores at a low price, took on a few rugged men and let some of the Intruder's off. I got a nice view of the place and a very good taste of local culture.
- Day 87, Bonny Anne
The bastards, drinking only makes being sick during a heavy storm worse.
Skyle's word is that, in time, the sickness lessens.
Bah.
- Day 94, Bonny Anne
Gallen finally got his supper, for a man with no left hand he eats, drinks and belches like any man.
Northward bound now, skirting the shipping lanes for vultures.
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- Day 119, Bonny Anne,
Bill has learned a lot as my subchef but he's got a heavy hand for spices. I do admit that his roasts are better with his spices.
I've been singing and doing my best to keep the crew happy, not a hard thing to do.
As a side note, I'm a better healer than the ship's doctor. Drat, cabin boy, cook, singer and now healer.
- Day 119, Bonny Anne
Commenting with Skyle about how many tasks I have he reminded me of another one - charge leader. After all, I was the first on the other ship twice.
Double drat. I hope they don't expect me to charge.
- Day 129, Some island somewhere (+)
A nice stop on some island, seems like the Captain had some business here.
Local songs, the lovely sound of wind blowing across trees in the early morning lying on a beach and a drink for parched me.
- Day 146, Bonny Anne
They truly do expect me to charge first.
Happy Grimace was the ship and it's captain, Captain Grim, surrendered quicker than expected.
Sal later told me that the Grimace's crew was weary of their captain's severity and welcomed the Bonny Anne and the Intruder - hence so little resistance to our boarding. In fact, there was no resistance and my charge was greeted with a subdued crew with their hands in the air as a sign of surrender.
Oh well. I thought it was the glowing, shiny guy in blue that scared them.
Three ships now, a wanted pirate criminal in the brig and we're headed towards port on Mistone to turn him in.
- Day 171, Shore Leave (+++)
Strong winds blew us into port in northern Mistone, Nogar. We beat out a storm and are now safe on land as strong winds and rain pound the gentle waves.
Long time since I've seen this part of the world... well, not really, but I like to forget my past every now and then, it eases it's sting.
I think that during the past six months I've made a difference to these men. I have actually, all of them wish for me to stay for a while longer as they've never eaten so well - even if it's just way bread stew, salted meat with hardtack or mixed rum. I have a suspicion that the men see me as one of the officers despite my wobbly legs - not once have I turned and ran away (well, except the first time but I think it was an understandable mistake) nor did I not carry my own weight.
I fit in, I'm well liked and I'm fearless - perhaps this is the life for me. At any rate, a nice little port town, some drink and the taste of home on my tongue and ears, well, maybe not home but closer than I expected to be.
- Day 186, Bonny Anne
Sailing the northern seas towards Leilon.
My knees trembled when I heard our next stop was my hometown. I don't want to be heard or seen by anyone I know. I asked the captain to stay aboard and organize the stores or anything else just to not touch land and he took my meaning and gave me some tasks to justify my being aboard.
Still a week away from home, as the winds blow at our backs, but I really don't want to see anyone - not even my parents, I'm supposed to be dead to the world.
Iron coin count so far: 11, not bad. Other than battle, Captain Red gives them for helping out and contributing to the ship's and the men's well being.
- Day 194, Bonny Anne
It's not yet time to return.
In port in Leilon, I glimpse over the city and see things that stir my heart and draw me to land but I resist temptation as when I consider touching the dock the pains and solitude rush over me. It doesn't even seem right to return at all but who knows?
- Day 201, Happy Grimace
Not a bad sloop, sturdy and rugged like the Bonny Anne but not as light on the water. I hopped aboard when we set out again, this time scrubbing the north-south shipping lanes in search of game.
The crew, with several new faces, that we picked up in Leilon, has been spread out across the three ships. I jumped to the Grimace because it was the one with the least amount of new recruits. Yes, I'm avoiding them.
As a joke, the Lieutenant in Command Jonas (acting captain of the Grimace) has set me as the First Mate and Executive Cabin Boy. As a jab at Captain Red, I've been ordered to serve the crew the finest of the fine of our stock being that the Grimace's former tubby captain had quite a large stock.
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- Day 265, Happy Grimace
Iron coin count so far: 18, not bad.
Three raiders boarded during the two months or so. Three crude ships, coastal raiders - all stripped for parts and goods and the empty hulls sunk for Shindaleria to plant coral on them.
I led the charge all three times, perhaps they do have a point in calling me Arnold the Spear.
Good stores, fresh fruits and veggies, Jonas and crew will eat like kings until Captain Red gets fed up with Bill's cooking once again.
I've been receiving lessons in sailing from Jonas and it seems that I was truly promoted to first mate, who would have guessed?
Such a nice guy, Jonas, tells me of his childhood love, now wife, and his desires to build a family - a thought that stuck like a lump in my throat as such desires aren't strange for me. He tells me that he's close to quiting the waves, perhaps in a year or two, to live on his wealth and become a humble farmer or fisherman. Hearing him speak over the past two months or so has stirred a part of me that I never felt before.
Dreams of children, to grow old by the bay and embrace age. It might be the drink, it might be the waves but I'm dizzy, time to rest.
- Day 283, Happy Grimace
Three days ago tragedy struck me.
In the calm of night as the three ships coasted south on weak winds, a ship of the line, massive compared to any one of the ships, appeared out of the pitch black night and struck the Grimace.
I was asleep but fully alert with the sound of the the great ship striking our side and grappling us. Considering the sound of the crash and the dead of night, I decided to fully prepare for combat and I only left the galley fully ready - which ended up being my blessing. Bursting from the room in full preparedness, I encountered Narog and Drall, luckily the biggest and most experienced fighters aboard, as they were heading up, with a command I stopped them and buffed them for the worse and we took to the main deck by storm - two huge men with scimitars and cutlasses and a slight man with a rapier.
Chaos before our eyes, men injured or dead all around, nearly all the Grimace's crew was on deck and over half were out of the battle. Our foes, as I could see in the pale light were dark figures skirting about and stabbing all they could see - drow, a ship of drow raiders took us by storm. The emergency bell was tolling from the aft and from the port side two shadowy, sailed monsters were approaching, the Intruder and the Bonny Anne. The starboard rail was filled with the towering wooden structure, their ship ran along our side - the Redoutable, one of the great ocean menaces was upon us with it's crew of dark men and elves that preyed on commercial vessels.
From hunters, we became the hunted. Panic left me as I was no longer a green coward.
The dim light favored their style of fighting, I assumed correctly and after barking to my two men to hold, I lit up the deck with all my light spells and unleashed the hounds under haste and song as I stood between them running through and cursing as many foul men as I could while Smorg rained arrows on all those he could. Both men were well protected as I healed them and I renewed their spells and sung whenever necessary as I did the same for myself too. My rapier ran foul with so much blood on it and both towering men's blades became nicked from cutting deep into bone and skull. We tore from the fore towards the aft crippling the Redoutable's resolve to take us. Injured men regained new life to fight as we cut across the deck as they joined our wave, with me in the middle of the line. With a dull thud, the Intruder's crew flowed over the aft, striking deep at the raider's rear.
A cry of panic was heard from the massive ship and the lashings from the Redoutable were being undone as the remaining foes flew away back to their ship.
Victory was our name a wave of fireballs and lightening bolts came from the Bonny Anne into the base of the sails of the Redoutable - they were going for the kill, no bounty shall be taken on this ship whole, nor would it's crew be allowed to see a fair morning - it's captain would meet Mist before his next meal. A deep gash cut the air as large bolts struck and crushed in the deck just above the waterline of the great ship followed by gooey splashing sounds on their main deck as more fireballs were hurled. Heavy Balistas, from the lower decks of the Anne with great bludgeoning heads and barrels of gooey alchemist's fire thrown from the deck's two swivel catapults. A roar as a thousand lions as fire took their deck - figures on fire jumping into the water as the sail's proofing buckled and flame spread over them as decay and death. Another volley of breaking wood, a death groan from the roaring ship, the rush of water.
I hear a cry for a healer and rush to the origin, Jonas was critically wounded and going fast. As I knelt to bandage his wounds, he took my hands with his crimson ones and with his last breath he commanded me for the first time.
"Tell my wife I love her."
Silence fell, the moans and cries of the wounded ebbed into silence.
A tear on his face, I felt him so close and now he left.
A funeral at sea is a sad thing. Our fallen companions, twenty one in number, all but Jonas' body returned to the Mother Ocean, to the Tempest's embrace. A sad song flowed from my lips, the same I heard as a fair good bye from a dock of long ago, the lament of loss of a friend.
Twenty one dead, thirty six wounded, twenty four in health.
The Grimace is now my ship.
- Day 288, White Harbour
Jonas' message has been delivered.
He was heading home for his wife's birthday, to surprise her after being at sea for so long, to be granted an extended leave, to rejoin us in Lannisport in four months.
We buried him where she asked us to, near Mist's shrine and I turned over his belongings - including a brilliant diamond necklace that was to be hers - and Captain Red turned over Jonas' share along with the crewman's contribution.
I stayed and cared for the with the widow, telling her Jonas' tales and of the time we shared. I saw in her eyes twice his death for now not only his dreams died, but hers too.
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- Day 310, Happy Grimace After an extended pause in White Harbour, we left eastward in full sail. Scouring the southern seas, the Grimace's crew is a fine bunch and all of the wounded are back in action. My duties as captain have kept me away from the galley but I still manage to cook them a nice meal, given the chance. My 31st birthday passed a while ago and I didn't even notice, Old Man look at me now, I'm quickly becoming you. Iron coin count so far: 32, not bad. - Day 330, Happy Grimace In a week I'll have been in this life for a year. I've learned much and lived a lot more. Skills are still sharp as is my rapier and so is the Norseblade, despite it rarely seeing combat these days as a claymore is a bit large for use on a ship. Captain Red has informed me that we'll be headed back to Lorindar soon to turn in the Grimace and the Intruder and let part of the crew go, he joked that he's doing this because he missed me as a cook. - Day 349, Happy Grimace Last day as this fine sloop's captain, 30-odd days as it's skipper and I've become so attached. A final inspection of it's decks, a stop at the galley where someone set fire to the food again and a final tour of it's main deck. I'll miss this fine ship, I'll miss all the men that I now know by name and nickname. I've cut an inscription into it's mast when no one was looking. A fine ship. - Day 355, Bonny Anne (++++) Setting sail from Lorindar as I did a little over a year ago, a crew of almost two hundred and full stores. Our present course is north then east to catch the Harj's Breath and skirt the snipers. Saying goodbye to the Grimace wasn't as bad as I imagined, mostly because of the state I was in - drunk, full and grinning stupidly. Who says that the wounds of lost love can't be healed in a rush? So now I'm back on the Bonny Anne as the Crew and Morale Officer - fancy words for a ship's bard and cook,it keeps me away from command but I'm still in contact with the men. I heard a rumor on land that surprised me a little, it seems like I left something in northern Dregar when we passed there 11 months ago, oh boy. - Day 361, Lusty Bard Great, Captain Red and the other officers respect me and like me around but they still love to pull pranks on me. Two days ago we encountered a newish smuggler vessel, a quick and nimble schooner. By chance we caught it, it's crew abandoned the ship on rowboats towards land. Now, this is the kind of ship that Captain Red strips and scuttles as it's too small to carry a lot of men and goods but when he caught a glimpse of it's name, "The Lusty Bard," he had no hesitation to turn it over to me. This obviously drew the laughter of the whole of the crew and, despite my initial disgust, I also took to laughing. This decision, however silly, wasn't just to pull my leg - it seemed that the captain saw potential in a boarding ship that could chase down most vessels so I was made captain of the Bard and given a crew of twenty-five of the best men available. The accommodations aren't the best but they're good enough. - Day 376, Lusty Bard Two smaller ships taken solely by us and two larger vessels with the Bonny Anne. Captain Red's plan for us is working well, only a few got injured in our boardings and on one occasion we achieved the element of surprise as we sailed in with the sun at our backs in the early dawn. Quite a daring dash if you ask me. I'd love to say that I'm the sole reason for such fortune but it's the crew that's well prepared, our navigator that sets the sails at the perfect angle and this ship's low turning radius. Southwards now, Talimar is supposed to be in sight. Iron coin count so far: 60, not bad. - Day 412, Shore Leave in Roldem (++++) I've seen things most people would ever believe, ships ablaze off the shoulder of Ran, I watched sea breams glitter in the dark near Valdon's Gate, all those moments will be lost in time, like something in the the something similar but not quite. Time to write... A captain's work is never done. Actually, mine is, my crew is very capable so I'm in good hands with them. We skirt the waves, tease the dolphins, sail circles around the Bonny Anne and the Vengence. It's a fun life with this crew, but new challenges are rare, Captain Red's ship and crew strike fear in the hearts of lesser marauders. Even he seems a little upset over the lack of threats, after word of his dealing with the Redoubtable started going around, we've seen more ships sailing away than ships staying to face us. At any rate, rumors say that Captain Red has a blue viper to do his deadly work. Some say that the Captain has a ship that races against full gales powered by magic that grapples raiders and a team of fifty blue assassins jump over and slay all in sight. Some even mention the Dread Pirate Arnold, deadly pirate that takes no prisoners, some say Arnold's real name is Ryan, or was is Westley? Threats run away from us now and waters where we are announced to be in are safe. This is a good life but I need a greater challenge, at sea, surrounded by such fine men I'm invincible. Perhaps it's time I thought about heading back now that I'm free of so much, I grew again within myself to take up my own space. My ambitions are now clear as a fresh morning after rain and I know how to start going about it. I believe I've reached the pinnacle of my sea legs, captain of my own ship - master of it's sail, from land borne bard to ocean going buccaneer with greater respect for Mist and Shindaleria, not to mention that I've seen myself over this world a great many times. Love, tempest and the mother have blessed me with their virtues, fortunes and dangers - not a few times have I been in a storm yet from all of them I sailed away unharmed. From cabin boy with fear of the sea to my own that learned to see beauty in the waters of the world, whatever gods that see me, I thank you all for such pleasures for my boundless soul. The old man in Lorindar comes back to my mind. Old man, there are tales to tell and I won't be the only one listening anymore. My questionable, my honorable, my wicked and my soothing all fall into place in this body and in this soul once more. Once I thought that I would never have surcease to my regrets of not dying that day long ago in Prantz. Once I thought that I would never mend my torn soul from so much treachery and misery. Once I thought that solitude was all I wanted, to be unknown - to be forgotten. Once I thought that venom flowed in my veins and my heart pumped ice. Once I thought that hatred was the tip of my heart. Five times I was wrong. If I was a lesser man I would not have felt so much so deeply and have gathered so much lore, so many sights and so many songs. They say that poets are the best to explore new lands, new oceans and new places - blessed am I, poet, to have seen the wonders a touch beyond safe harbor. A squirming and a gentle call comes from elsewhere in this room, it's time to go again. - Day 431, Lusty Bard Bountiful waters near Roldem, safer, calmer waters bring more merchants and the merchants bring more usurpers. Our crew grows thin with all the ships we have in our little armada, six now, all good quality ones, a prize addition to any armada. The Bard is the only one with a full compliment, we've agreed that it's time we got rid of some of the ships, perhaps a trip to Karthy. I have talked with the Captain about disembarking there, he'll talk to me about it later. Iron coin count: 96, not bad. - Day 441, Tibum Clear sailing and no one but Captain Red knows of my intention to leave in Karthy, a walk through Rilara and a ship to Leilon to give my mother the letter I long forgot to send her. I sit here looking over Tibum, some signs of progress warm me as I'm thrown back years to the time where I was so innocent of the world. Longing for times past are my trap, I'd better shut it out and build fresh and new from now onwards. What will greet me when I land, will fear of Prantz stop me from entering it? I will never know until I reach it's gates and enter. Friends, rare, will the few be lost or will they have just grown older? I will never know until I find them. Will there still be the same one that I considered my shove in the shape of mortal, will she be still be the same? I don't care anymore. A week's travels westwards, wind on our backs again. - Day 448, Lusty Bard Karthy is tomorrow's dawn and Captain Red wishes to talk to me when we dock. I've carefully put away all my gear in the trunk I brought aboard the Bonny Anne so long ago, the Norseblade is safely in it's large chest and my clothing, in bad shape, will probably need some heavy repairs. A quick message to both my Lilies is ready to be sent. I'm actually anxious to race the land again, a year is far too long to be at sea. - Day 450, Karthy Last entry in this travel log and when I return to Leilon - if I still have a room, I'll rebind my second journal with these pages. Captain Red accepted my resignation yesterday when we set foot on land but requested two things from me, one was that I tell his tales to instill fear on possible pirates and the other was to count and return to him his iron coins. I am now the proud owner of the Lusty Bard. Ninety six iron coins total, the exact price of the Lusty Bard with a few crewmen headed towards Leilon to sail it there. Oh, not to mention a nice fat bag of gold, my share for our time together at sea. Before leaving, I told the captain my real name to which he responded that he had always known but he didn't think "Freldo" was good name for a seaman so he played along - it's obvious that I cannot escape who and what I am. I'll miss the captain, the crew and their laughter. Not a sad farewell, but a happy one for each went to do what they were best at - Captain Red and his ships and I, the Lusty Bard and my wanderings. Sal disembarked also so he took the Bard home for me, I wanted to run the land to regain familiarity with it. Rumor of things I have left behind in my travels are heard - one comes to the conclusion that the fastest thing in the world is good gossip. I'll deal with my treasures forgotten soon enough, as soon as I pick up the pieces of my own world and stable my wobbly sea legs.
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I met with Caniel the other day, still a stern woman but she's pointy and actually bites back so I've started to care about her, after there are not that many people around that actually bite me back in a decent way. Miriel's as cute as ever, such a pleasant girl but she has this crazy idea that if she defends herself well in combat she won't get killed, she dodges and dances like nothing I've seen before between ogre's axes and clubs. If it works for her, more power to her, I take the "hit them hard and hit them often" way of doing things, like Cole, Lilly, Melanna (she has a sword bigger than mine, which is kinda creepy) and so many others but I do have the advantage of greatly weakening foes through song. Gimbol, some crazy gnome, brought an elemental attractor into Hlint and I helped him move it out, kinda crazy fellow - talked about it summoning or attracting elemental half-breeds. Said he worked for Professor Zein of Rilara, I shrugged it off and after moving it out of town, I set him up at the Wild Surge. I hope to hear more from him in the future, Gimbol and Zein might be important names in the future and they might need my help. Honora's still tough and, from what she told me of the whole MAF thing, things turned out just fine even with the distractions from She Who Must Not Be Named, Rhynn. They found Shindaleria's avatar or something and it seems that the oceans are in balance once again, I guess that explained the calm we had at sea some months back. Oh, she told me she led the group at some point, which I thought was wonderful as I knew she had it in her to lead. I may not agree with the lifestyle of monks with their laws and order but I freely admit that most of them are very well centered and I would follow them to the ends of the earth if need be. I found Lilly the other day and had a nice chat with her, black armor and all. Yes, I missed her quite a bit. As we sat and talked, Master Kobal and Enzo exchanged some silvery mineral, mithril. I had heard about such things and even caught a glimpse of them but to see such quantity of mithril being exchanged was... breathtaking. Lilly was drooling all over herself, as was to be expected from such a fine weaponsmith and not-so-amature armorer, perhaps I'll ask her for a nice medium-sized adamantium shield and chain shirt - well, if I did that I'd have to get two rings of bull's strength to help me carry all that armor around. I need to organize my stuff, perhaps I'll make a list at the bottom of this entry of stuff I need and/or want. For the funniest bit, it came to be that Rhynn is to marry. I still enjoy a chuckle when I hear think about it and imagine the great powers of the one she has seduced, after all her list of lovers include the ranks of Ozymandias Silver Tongue, Celgar The Jester and Mith The Dead. I have never heard of him, Malor as he is called, but considering Rhynn's ravenous need for power, drama and constant unrelenting attention, he must be one of those new folks in Hlint that follow the new rules of a foot race, narrated as such: Mulnari, 7 hours on the clock since noon: "I arrived in Hlint, strange new place full of things to do! A goblin killed me today." Threas of the same week, 10 hours on the clock, almost lunch time: "I have slayed my sixth dragon today, I wish they were more of a challenge." I heard her voice in Hlint, dressed up in red. A mockery of Ilsare, she considers turning magic tricks in a desperate bid for attention and fame "love". I guess the Lady of Dreams is a very forgiving godess. Stuff I want for my roles: Freldo, The Mediocre Fighter Adamantium medium-sized shield Adamantium or platinum or something not-so-expensive chain shirt Two rings of Bull's Strength of intermediate power Freldo, The Wayferer and Mariner Nice light robes that convey some benefits (got one but I could use a royal ball gown or something just as nice, like a gift or something) Adamantium rapier with extra kick (got a rapier, waiting for Sahala for the "extra kick" part) Freldo, The Cook Mithril tower shield to protect me from exploding ovens Diamond bladed cleaver to cut through the toughest of meats A small fire elemental to help brown my roasts and pies that need browning
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Her name was Maya.
She was the first to stake a claim over me on my travels.
Early one day she caught my eye as I was reluctantly helping unload the Anne, a fine brunette with skin as coffee with too much milk wearing a bright red dress with black bodice. In a blink and she was gone and I truly believed that I had imagined that figure. An ethereal visage for sore eyes that had laid no eye on a fair figure of females for so many fortnights, red dress so well with her skin and long hair - light brown eyes, lush red lips. All seen in a flash out of the corner of my eye... I whisked it aside, blaming looking at men for too long.
Surprise manifested itself as she revealed to be real, merchant's daughter and she welcomed us on our way to negotiate with her father. Leaning against the door, bundle of cloth in hand and a smile painted her face golden - none that saw her did turn away from bright flowering beauty as defined in her shape and she shyly enjoyed the attention. She looked over our group as her head tilted to survey Red as he asked to speak to her father, her hair swayed and the line of her neck was revealed much to the gasping and uneasy shift of the other men. I had been asked to help negotiate, being quite good at it. Duty, however, called and I was swayed from the detour - I requested leave from the captain to pursue my business.
Listening and talking, I quickly fell for her simple charms and I hoped she'd fall for mine. One day and one night was what it took, dawn broke with a knock on my door at the inn. The early breeze gently washing the land, waves on the rocks, singing birds and the stir of early morning were the sounds that most heard - I heard singing.
Four days was all we had, four days was all we'll ever have.
The fifth day on land was fading when I said farewell for by dawn I was going to be beyond the dip of the world. I'd love to give myself a decent excuse for leaving, I'd love to reason it out but I can't so I won't - I ran from something true, much like I did so many other times.
She spoke words so willingly as did I, words just true that day as they are now, a year and a half later. I left her no letter, no explanation but I did leave her my heart which she now carries, or so the winds tell me. I'll live to regret not being there as I might regret so many other things in my life but the sublime moments shared are worthy of future remorse. I was foolish to believe that all I was going to get was a drink and some bread, I was foolish to think that I could break away clean - then again, I'm not known for being a wise man, after all I know my own sins.
Boundless heart that bleeds crimson, blessed I am to feel so deeply and be so deeply moved by a fair lass from a time distant. The quick flame of passion died but my mind's eye still sees those eyes, nose and mouth, the red dress with flowing hair as the sea's breeze blew. I know now, as I did when I left, that what I feel for her will remain with me forever.
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Six words to tell a tale.
Day one, Hlint. Same day, bindstone.
Live, adventure, get crushed by giant.
Adventure, explore, empower. Death by badger.
Quartermaster, Wagonmaster, Cryptkeeper: "Help us, please!"
Ogre leader's head. "Easy," they say.
Silly bard, lost her amulet again.
Considerable, labyrinthine lexicon sires laborious interpretation.
Desperate for attention, she paces.
-
Lily had this crazy idea of us two getting diamonds. At first I thought she mistook me for some kind of nut that likes suicide runs but to my surprise we met up with Daralith, Bakee and my Goddess of Nightmares, Cassandra, a nice looking woman, much better to look at than Bakee, with a really nasty attitude.
So there I was, resting up outside the entrance, a simple fellow, follower of a simple goddess - as she's gracious enough to forgive enemy clerics to use her temple in Hlint - surrounded by a followers of the prince of hate and the destroyer, I'd venture that one of them was actually of the mad god's faith but I'm not sure.
I was, how should I put this, surprised with Lily's choice of friends, I need to talk to her about this as I'm pretty sure that Deliar wouldn't be to keen on such friendships. Then again, Ilsare isn't to keen on helping them out also so I guess I should rethink my position and acceptance too.
Now, the funny part is that I found them to be a lot more interesting than most of the folks I have met before. Daralith's cruelty as he speaks is actually quite entertaining in a "if you have a huge sense of humor" sort of way. Cassandra's viciousness is apparent and I'm pretty sure that, as a black widow, she'd behead any mate after the act but this calling of death turns her into a truly interesting specimen. Bakee, well, she's big and dumb but I see her adequacy as a follower of Pyrotechon - she's but a soldier in his legion and if she was smart she'd probably be upset at being used as fodder.
So there we were, there we went and there we came out, in one piece and with a pretty nice haul, Daralith even agreed to make me strength two rings in exchange for my share of the stones and a nominal fee.
All in all, not a bad trip despite the gloom that hovered so close to me.
As for gloom, I had a wonder chat earlier that day with Miriel, such a cute girl and she really does seem to care about the state of things despite her massive, almost saddening paranoia. I'm sure she doesn't mean harm in thinking that every stone holds a plot to assassinate the world but at times - no matter how I tried to tell her - a rock is simply a rock, it's just there and not the key (or piece) of a puzzle. I must say that she does have a keen ear and her chaotic free associations bring new ideas to mind, her presence is much more than just being a beautiful drow woman, her words might bring new truths to surface. Oh, another thing, she certainly is beautiful.
I saw Bjorn again, the fat dwarf's incredible bowels are still working well. He took a small group, of which I was a member, to see the demons near Bloody Gate. In the group there was a quite agreeable gal, Yu, or something, is her name - the quiet kind but she daylights... or moonlights as a writer and also some orcish fellow called Grok, a dumb strong type, the usual combination. I saw Kyle and he also told me of the resolution of Estibana and now I'm sure that it was their doing that made the oceans so agreeable when I ran it's waves, I'm just happy all things ended well.
In these past few days I've had quite a lot of time to write about my travels, most notably about The Five. When I wrote it all out, the tale of each woman and how they each stole me I almost fell drawn to depart and find them again. Perhaps one day I will, but it won't be soon.
Now, time to find out where all the chests in the kitchen went.
-
I have to remember to buy a desk and I have to remember to buy it soon. So here I am, writing from my new house in the Cesspit of the World, Hlint. As much as I hate this place, a house here does have it's conveniences, not to mention that real estate here is worth a fortune so if I ever wanted to sell this house, I'd make a small fortune with no effort. That said, I'm trying to make this place a nice refuge from the world outside, I have a huge dining area (the previous owners must have loved dinner parties), a nice sized common room that I've turned into a studio and study (when I buy the desk I keep forgetting to buy), two large rooms that are currently unused but I intend to give one to Lily so she can trash and the second floor I've converted into my personal space. Oh, one of the rooms became a storage after cleaning out my chests at the Leilon Arms Inn, I never knew I had so much stuff until I organized it a little and Calise graciously received a nice donation of fine gems, surplus equipment and star dusts. Enough about that for now... except for the desk, that I need to remember to buy. So the Arms Inn opened last Freas and Kali decided to show her pretty face again. By Ilsare how I've missed her - distance, it's said, makes the heart grow fonder but until I saw her I never knew just how fond of her I truly was. I know that what I saw in her smiling face was a mix of remembrance of a time lost and desire to relive old days yet something moved in me, as though things might be turning upwards now, that perhaps things now wouldn't be that bad. So the Arms Inn was full again and even Katrien was happy that she wasn't there showing her wares to only a few - she even took the stage and presented herself to all those that wanted to hear her. For a little while, I remembered how things were. For a little while, I remembered joy without a cost. For a little while, I forgot that I had to buy a desk for my study. Then there came Melanna, she asked me about the lizardman chief in the moors, it seems that Garent needed him removed from power so I agreed to help her if we had a few more hands. It was our lucky day as a large group was headed towards the Haven Mines to rescue a fallen comrade - we agreed to help them out and they agreed to come with us to the moors. A nice little time we had, lots of new faces and I even met that elusive Demitri fellow that contacted me about a room at the Arms Inn. I had actually forgotten what it was like in the moors with a larger group, last time I was there I emptied the place out on my own for fun and profit but to actually go with a group and not have to rely solely on myself was refreshing. I was so satisfied with the interaction that I gave up on my share of the gold - stupid me as I'm sure it would have been enough for the desk that I keep forgetting to buy. On a side note, I did manage to get some work done in smelting, making rods and elemental enhancements - which is nice considering how boring the work is. Pretty soon I hope to be able to make my own, more powerful, enhancements for my arrows, it's a lot cheaper than paying a thousand trues for a complete quiver of oak ones... then again, I could take up Lily's proposal and start making my own oak arrows, it would be a nice addition to my skills if I could actually make something that I go through at a shocking rate. Who knows, if I become a skilled carpenter, I might even make myself the desk I constantly forget to buy. Rumor has spread... actually not rumor but fact... that a plague has stricken the land and it started because of something to do with waking black dragons and Hurm. I wonder if the Street Pacer had something to do with it, as it would make perfect sense to have her start a storm because she can't keep her mouth shut nor stop her desperate craving for attention... but I digress as it doesn't matter anyway for fact is fact and no amount of truth can derail it. Jharl and Katrien have posted a call for potions, food, clothing and other supplies to be donated at the Arms Inn and, through a lippy Toby, he asked me to take it all to Hurm. I guess that's my part in all of this, trying to supply relief for the stricken, I'll have to set sail soon and hope for the best as both of them are quite dear to me, despite the gap that opened between us. Also it greatly saddens me to hear that a few folks that I like have been stricken sick and are now under quarantine. The plague has spread and there seems to be very little anyone can do about it, we're all at the mercy of luck. If I remember, those clerics in North Point managed to reverse a well deserved curse, I can only hope that they can pull themselves together to work this one out. Perhaps this is a sign of things to come, the devastated and desolate land now breeds even more open spaces as the living now are soon to be dead. As I told my mother so long ago, times are dire and we may not live to see any tomorrow. I wonder if the kids are well, most of them are in rather scarce regions so perhaps the plague will spare them and their mothers. Perhaps I should pen them a letter... if I had a desk to write from as this table is quite uncomfortable. Lots of new folks in town, which would be nice if I didn't hate this place. Some I have taken a liking to, others, not so much and some and some are interesting, some are not - independent of liking them or not. Some I have seen struggling to deal with orcs, some I have seen fall to ogres and yet there are those that I have never seen around that suddenly slay giants as though they were flies. I sometimes wonder where all these people gain so much experience, especially the wizards. While the non-mages have to battle for scarce powerful items, they enjoy the bountiful harvest of the weave - perhaps the rape of the weave - as though they rule the world which, in fact, they do. None are powerful enough to face them but others of their profession but they're all on the same team preserving their own power and looking down on those that are not pure. A true statement to the balance of the world is that there are so few truly powerful warriors out there yet mages are powerful by the dozen, perhaps Lily is the only warrior around that has ascended to power so fast, the rest are only wizards. I guess I chose the wrong profession. Then again, I don't think so as as a seer I'd be terribly lazy. If could chose another line of work, I'd probably be a carpenter, then, at least, I'd be able to make myself the desk I so desperately want for my study.
-
I was approached with a request from an old and dear friend, to take her sailing and how could I say no to my favorite half-orc girl?
It had been a while since I had wanted to take to the seas as business on land have kept me busy but it was great to see the Lusty Bard again - Sal was a bit shocked at what I had done with it. Ever since returning to Leilon, the Lusty Bard had been dry docked for repairs, a new paint job, some new trimmings and refitted and reblessed for a small crew.
We set off, Honora with a smile the size of the world on her face, after Sal and Timael made their little sacrifice to Mist for a safe voyage, not speedy one because nobody was in a rush to go anywhere (though our plan was to sail past Krandor towards the south and then back, a nice sail to get some salt back in our veins).
After settling on a routine on board, each of us went about our business - well, it wasn't that solitary but each of us had time to ourselves, something that I really needed. Honora was doing her monk thing and I remembered that near decade ago when I first met her in Hlint, a simpler time. Sal and Timael kept each other company, I know they miss our heyday but I'm sure they also like their life on land as successful sailors with their wives and families, a privilege I am not to have, so it seems.
It had truly been a while and I sunk back into my contemplation of what happened on my voyages and thoughts of what I left behind came back to me. I couldn't help but scan the horizon for shipsign but found myself looking towards the bearings to those places that marked me the most, so far away both in time and space. As the Bard skimmed the waves - Mist's blessings were strong on it's hull, I guess the donation was sizable enough to warrant special treatment - the wind brought even more memories of my time traveling.
I was almost at peace, if not for the nagging of guilt at the corners of my mind, at the corners of my eyes that would make me turn to face the places where I guessed they were. There is no excuse for what I've done, I just hope that some day I might meet one of them again.
-
Voice of an angel, model self-assurance and beauty that words can only begin to describe. Thus was Noelle.
We met by chance as both our ships came to port at the same time - she was traveling the world and paying her way singing. I had secured myself a few barrels of ale for my ship when she entered the bright tavern and cast a bright glow with her dazzling smile.
To describe Noelle is the same as describing a song to a deaf man but I'll try... Bright flowing raven hair, almond opal eyes set in the whitest ivory with high arching brows, snow white skin unblemished by the sun, ruby lips that formed a heart when she smiled - pearl white teeth hidden, her voluptuously feminine shape with long, dangerous curves and long shapely legs that hid nothing. The line of her jaw showed determination, the curve of her neck showed sensuality and her hands showed grace never seen before. A long, practical olive dress, silken shawl on her shoulder and a wide greenish hat were in her hand as she stood there.
Oblivious to the attention she drew, steps towards the bar were taken by her hard sole boots and before me she stood.
"I am Noelle. I need work, I can sing and you can pay me with room, board and Trues," was what she told me.
I smiled and surveyed the depth of her eyes, "It's a pleasure to meet you Noelle but I don't own this place, he does." I pointed towards the bearded old man behind me.
Noelle blushed shyly - the most perfect imitation of innocence as later I came to know how well she played her game - and turned to the owner and offered her talents to him which was quickly accepted. She then turned to me and I knew that when our eyes locked that she had me all figured out. As a schoolboy, I blushed and accepted that I could not maneuver her, I was completely at her mercy and I knew she felt that too. She smiled sweetly and invited me to return for her songs later on that day, I accepted and returned that night.
Word quickly spread through the town that a rare raven woman was going to sing that night and when I returned the room was close to full. Stealing a seat near the back, I elevated it and sat a full head above the men in front of me, so I could see her in full.
Her songs of love and the seas - she sung from her heart and she knew well how to draw thirst from lonely men as barrel after barrel of ale were opened and passed around, much to the proprietor's joy. Face calm, lips, body and hands dancing as tales of love left on distant shores, a lonely wife's tears and songs of lovers re-encountered. From time to time her eyes would fall on mine and I would smile as I mouthed a word or two of praise. She sung as if intimate with every man and woman in the room.
When it was time to leave, I stayed and became the only one left. I carefully pulled out my guitar and begged a moment of her attention as I started an old song, partly to test her knowledge of songs. She came to my side and sung the old tale of a man who lost his love to the rivers of time, a hand on her shoulder as our song echoed through the empty inn. The song ended and a silence was cast over us as she we sought each others gaze and again I flinched from her eyes, she lowered her hand to mine and I took it.
Deeply enthralled, deeply charmed and deeply entranced we spun our time together. Gifts were exchanged as were vows, we both knew that our wandering ways were not to end just then but nothing was held back - comfort and joy was the sum of us.
It came to pass that we sailed away at the same time, my last glimpse of her was that of the warm morning light glowed brightly around her head as she waved a single goodbye with those opals called her eyes. The mist that clouded me afterwards forced me to refuge on the Anne, I had accepted domination by my own will and I will never forget her nor will ever forget me.
/*
This is the second entry today, the first one is Contemplations: The Sea (http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=28275#M204062)
*/
-
I finally got that desk I wanted but I think I'll have to move it aside if what I proposed to Ireth happens, from her letter replying to my offer she seemed very touched. I even had a locksmith over to put better locks on the rooms that would offer any danger and I've interviewed a few novices and nurses to help out. I'm actually excited about this, maybe it'll make up for running away from them.
On Lilly's suggestion, I've taken the woodworker/tinkerer path, not a bad combination as now, instead of making elemental rods for my arrows, I can make nice strong arrows with good arrowheads. Eventually I'll head back to making elemental rods but for now I'll work a little on the arrows. So it came to pass that Freldo the Saw Dust Maker has become a half way decent bowyer and fletcher.
Actually, it's not all fun and games, it's very, very, very, very, very boring work - so boring that I find myself fleeing back into reclusion so I guess it's a good thing that I found Caniel sitting around in Hlint yesterday.
I had been aching for a trip to the Barbarian Isles for a while, notably since my supply of ice had vanished. Taking Caniel along was a nice gesture on my part and, in the end, revealed something quite important to me.
As for Caniel, she's an old woman with hints of bitterness and cruelty, just the kind of person that I can respect. She's quick with a spell and hits pretty hard with her staff, which is surprising, and, incredibly, she's not one to get caught in the fog of close fighting. On other occasions, when she's not intentionally trying to get under your skin, she can be quite likeable.
So we were off, Bard and Wizard to the north for some fun, profit and pretty stones.
Needless to say, it was a good trip but the most striking thing about it (other than almost getting mauled at the same spot again) was a chat I had with Caniel while we tried to warm up. We talked about Ranewin, elves, humans and about how old I was - a mere blink of an eye for her, of course. During this talk an intresting though surged over me...
"I don't miss the past, I miss the way I was."
Indisputably time passes and we grow older.
Undoubtedly the transition brings change.
Doubtlessly, change in yourself, in others and in the world can be turned into positive things for a person.
Absolutely, a person with the proper frame of mind grows every day.
The past is, in accordance to the previous line of thought, worse for a person than today is. We may grow older and scarred but thanks to our strife and joys we reach a new, better level of acceptance and understanding of the world. We are better as individuals now than we were back then. Our experiences accumulated up to now allow us to not commit the mistakes of our past and protect us from harm - be it emotional or physical. In hindsight, we made foolish mistakes and we would correct them if we had a chance. Looking backwards is always easy since we do so with clear sight and experience but what I think we see is not the times nor the places but the lack of disappointments, suffering and loss that living incurs on each of us.
I do not miss Cole, Rhynn, Addison, Renji, Kiva, Freida or so many others - I miss the Freldo that accompanied them. It's not the people they were or are but who I was then and who I am now, I'm no longer the same person as I was when I met each of them. I can only truly miss the past when I evoke the memories of who I was - free and without burdens.
In Utopia, our current minds would best be merged with our younger selves to save us from the toils of living - regardless of the paradox that this would imply.
And so I gained a deeper understanding of the demon that corrodes my soul from the inside.
Perhaps I'll take Caniel's advice and seize what's rightfully mine, perhaps I'll sail again to those places I left behind and embrace what I left on foreign shores or perhaps I'll sit here and contemplate how I'm going to keep the kids away from my collection of sharp-pointy-things-that-can-poke-your-eye-out.
-
I'm Tabitha, Freldo's secretary, on loan for the hundredth time from the temple in Hlint. He has asked me to write his journal based on his notes while he's at the crafting house burying himself in "a mountain of sawdust, clay and sand". He said it had something to do with about a halfling slave driver and that I should introduce myself before writing and that I should write in third person, as though I watched him during these events (some of these I did see), and as though I was chronicling it for posterity's sake. He has promised that he would not rip these pages out nor censor me so I'm to write about him as I please so here goes: He insists he doesn't each much pie but I saw what he keeps in his pantry and there's a very big pile of used, empty pie tins. There, now that I wrote something intentionally mean, to his notes. "Mad Routine" (These events I have seen) Freldo was very bored until recently. He's had the habit of lounging around the temple almost every day if he's in town and had spent so much time there that he was started becoming a nuisance. It was to our great luck that someone found him something to do, something about hard work wouldn't let his spirits go down. The benefactor that took him from the Lady of Dream's temple was the purple haired halfling woman he is so fond for, Lillian, she's actually managed to make him put his nose to the grindstone and get something productive done. If before he complained about too little to do, he now complains he has too much to do and too little time to slack off but he does seem to be a lot happier than before, I really must thank Lilliy for giving him something to do. At any rate, it seems he's quite good, or "lucky" as he prefers, at what he's doing and he's slowly become a good carpenter, bowyer, fletcher, glass worker and enchanter. Proof of this is that his once full crates of raw materials are all with finished items, quite an accomplishment for Ilsare's laziest bard, he has even shared with me that he's also shocked at his dedication and quite happy with how things are going with this endeavor. Iron, feathers, long sturdy branches, bags and bags of sand and more material come in through one door and, when he has enough of them, I see him putting on a pair of rings that he got from a good but shady friend and hauling them to the crafting hall. In fact, that's what he did not half an hour ago, from his window I see no smoke coming from the hall so I can only conclude he hasn't blown it up yet. "Silence is the Key" (I have not seen these events but I have heard about) Freldo has a few things from his past that he never properly dealt with, one is the matter that keeps him going out to sea (my bet is that he did something that he deems wrong) and another is that he doesn't know what to do around those that broke his heart. In other words he's terrible at dealing with disappointments, either he doesn't know this or if he does, he doesn't admit it. I have seen him actively avoiding Ranewin and I must confess that he does go to weird extremes to avoid meeting, talking or even being around certain people. From his notes here, I see that he had been unable to avoid a person that he doesn't feel at all comfortable around, he likes her as much as he likes "the bits of dark sand that cling to and stain your pants after a walk down an ugly beach with unpleasant company that happens to have terrible body odor and bad breath". He has, however, found a way of dealing with her, mostly by just not opening his mouth around her and treating her well enough so that she'll just go away and, again from his notes, "nag the hell out of someone else, preferably someone that I don't like." He doesn't leave a name but I'll guess it's that blonde human woman that spent some time at the temple a while ago, she didn't seem that bad a person at the time. From what I have gathered from the folder that he left on the table, the Mistone Archaeological Foundation's finding of Estibana was not the end of the story, Alvin M'asty (head of a dig in Hapur, deceased) had a nephew that was waiting for some envoy from Rilara. After a wild goose chase, the group found the remains of the caravan near the Wolfswood Forest and someone found a painting of a group and a name, "Imjam". I haven't seen anything that would indicate Freldo's continued interest in finding Imjam but even I know that he's very unpredictable and might just tag along for a chance to chat with Yashilla, a cleric of Mist, about how to properly thank the goddess for presenting him so many challenges while he was at sea. "Children and Orphans" (We talked about this, he left no notes on it but I thought it best to write about his state of mind) He's been upset lately because he hasn't been able to go to Hurm to visit the children there with Ireth, he blames it on Lilly but the fact is that he's been avoiding it despite all his best intentions, as though something about children frightens him. I know that he helps an orphanage in Leilon and that he's been shopping around for nurses, nannys and a large amounts of bunk beds to fill the spare rooms of his house to take on refuges but there is something gnawing at him when it comes to children. I think it looks like he wants a few of his own.
-
I loved what Tabitha wrote, perhaps I'll have her over to write more in the future.
I've taken a break from my plan to build a zoo out of driftwood, it seems that part of me had a magnificent idea that agreed with the obsessive compulsive part of me so I have forty pieces of wood, a dozen very, very, very sharp knives (courtesy of my favorite weaponsmith) and I've already made thirty little wooden critters. I must confess that my favorite one so far is the family of bears, they're so quick to form that I take my time in carving little details.
So here I am at my desk after a long week's work, a trip with Honora when we talked and kicked butt and seeing Nepp's announcement of Ash's final parting from the circles of this world.
I feel for Nepp. I might have never had any more affection towards Ash but that freaky drow ranger is too much fun so to see his unsteady handwriting drew out more feelings than I thought I had. I do remember when I first really met Ash though, not a trace of the bitterness I saw months after that day. Pretty green dress, sitting on the floor of the old Arms Inn with Zanirth and.. well... someone. I was sure at some point that I'd leave the world for good before she did, but I guess I've been chosen to persist in my stormy seas while she has shed her coil towards peace with Folian.
So through the murk and blaze of so much work, fiddling and carving, I did manage a few moments of time with myself.
First, I finally got around to personally sailing the donations to Hurm that Jharl has been receiving and just my luck to see Honora at the docks in Leilon looking for a ride to Hurm so I asked her if she wanted a ride, to which she responded even before I finished asking. She was a little surprised, and happy, to see a full compliment on the Bard - no way in all the Hells would I sail so far without a full crew, one never knows what Lady Doom would throw and I do not tempt fate with my foolishness.
As was to be expected, The Lady of the Sea decided that we needed some exercise so storms, bad weather, snow and even the sight of piratesign on the horizon although they did give up when we hoisted our colors, I guess the legend of the Dread Pirate Arnold still holds some weight among the smarter ones. On the whole, a nice trip with Honora doing her fair share - which initially surprised the men but they grew to admire her skills - and climbing into the crow's nest at every chance. If I'm more serious at sea, at least that's what she said, she beams with childhood joy as the Bard skips from wave to wave.
As the Bard was being unloaded, we set off in search of adventure, undead and a little gold in the hills and forests of west central Dregar. During the usual cutting, tearing, bashing, slashing, punching and kicking that one might expect from such a trip we did manage to have a nice conversation about ourselves. I almost told her a few deeper truths about myself, actually I did tell her but since the context was a little confusing I don't think she fished out what I was really talking about and I heard about Mikey going away, maybe for good.
Yes, my deep truths, how I love them... Anyway, Honora's on her own in the world and the slight looming sadness of passing the age of bearing children threatens her. I was taken to a slight silence when she professed this worry but she did seem happy that I was going to take on Hurm orphans but the thought of regret drove me towards the brink of silliness in an attempt to steer the conversation towards others, lesser subjects.
As before, she talked and marveled with the wind, even the humid one from the swamp. Since I was hoping to keep alive I saved my haste spells for myself as Honora is already too fast but when I managed to cast one on her, all she needed to fly was a pair of wings. Yes, I do like her, one of my oldest friends and I still remember the first time we met in Hlint - now she's one of the top tailors in the land and a might to be dealt with, if you're crazy enough to pick a fight with her.
It was an "uneventful" excursion, it seems that my ability to survive and surpass is a lot sharper than I thought possible. Lots of gold, lots of gold nuggets for Lilly to smelt and not a single spider bite later we returned to Hurm to see the Bard done unloading.
I knew the people in Hurm would be in slightly better shape after another shipment of relief but there are just too many kids for the local orphanages to deal with so I had better track Ireth down and decide how many I'm going to bring into my life. The sad eyes of children that have seen their parents gone drew blood from my heart and I wandered off into my past as we sailed back to Leilon.
So that was that, although there were other events that are yet to be resolved and a whole lot of time spent in crafting halls, alchemy tables and enchanting altars. By Ilsare I spent a lot of time in those during the past week, so much so that I'll be retreating to my comfy chair and maybe a trip to King's Landing under a veil of mist for a peak.
I seem to already feel regret for what I did, I hope that before I'm too old I manage to patch things up.
-
How to start again after such a long hiatus.
I could start with the beginning and work my way to the end, but that's boring and frankly, I don't remember it all.
Ranewin returned, trips with Honora, traveling, love rekindled, tinkering, cooking, killing drakes, talk of children, fletching, mining with Lilly, exploring, more fletching and a peaceful night's sleep. And that's just the first day!
I could start with the end and write backwards but that would end up being confusing and would suffer from the problem as the first idea, I have forgotten quite a few things since my last rambling.
A song in elvish, fletching, exploring, mining, fletching, kids and the future, drakes and being almost killed, cooking, tinkering, digging sand, love that returned and grew, travels to lands well know and finding new foes, Iron Hills with Iron Honora and the return of grace. And that's just what happened yesterday!
Highlights? Maybe, but I'm not a very terse guy so that would be a disaster as "highlights" would end up being a prelude to a very, very, very, very long story.
Jilseponie's orphanage needs a bard so she accepted my offer to help her out.
Drums, bagpipes, horns, kazoos, trumpets and other loud instruments have been deemed unnecessary as smaller, quieter instruments have just as much effect in educating the children in the arts. I also offered to be a teacher of sorts - I may not be a master of lore but I am available. Jil seemed to be happy that I would offer my services as a music instructor and teacher, I did offer to be a cook but she does take great pride in her being a better chef than I, as I'm sure she does in being a better fisherman, so I'll let her sweat the ovens while I teach the kids to sing. It's a win-win situation for me.
Maybe I could write a really long story in the third person about what I did, didn't do, wanted to do and where I'm at but that sounds like too much work.
Freldo knelt over the fallen body of Melanna while Elohanna wept close by and Lillian, battered and bloodied and stood off to the side in uncharacteristic silence. A sudden flame of battle had ushered in the engagement not a minute before and now, as the last of the fallen giants gasped his last breath, the mighty Melanna, the firey gal from Pranzis that Freldo had grown to like without restrictions, had lost her ninth and penultimate strand to the soul mother.
"I failed her," he thought as he pulled the hair off her bloodied face revealing tranquility and peace that only death reveals. "If I had stayed by her side instead of charging into their formation to sap them, if I had payed more attention to her and not thought that she could bear the brunt of the druid's attack," ran through his head as Elohanna's gentle sobs drew him to the verge of breaking.
As her remaining soul drew her body away to her bindstone, the three that still stood retreated to a safe place to await her shiny form to return and reflect on the place she fell. A quietness surrounded the group, the bard's laughter silent, the mage's eyes red and the warrior's jaws sealed in silent rage.
"Why do they think they can do as I do?" Lillian asked Freldo afterwards, "they think that they can do as I can."
"Lily," Freldo answered, "do you really thing that Melanna knows of another way to do things?" was his answer.
"I know what I can do to make it a little better for her," the halfling said thoughtfully, "I'll give her the ore so she can make a better sword."
What if I wrote as though I was Arthur, a third person view told in first person... first horse in his case.
That blue-green guy came over today, a rare visit despite my living behind his house. He spoke of meeting a little gnomish bard that he found to be quite to his liking, he even made her a few instruments and told her a little of how their song grows as time passes. At any rate, he did look happy, as though he finally met someone that wasn't a complete nutcase, not counting that other little bard he likes so much that I never see anymore.
I tried to tell him, speaking slowly, that I wanted a carrot and to be petted behind my ears but that fool doesn't understand me, I wonder if that elven woman he's with will knock some sense into him.
Or perhaps as Oxfordian III, of course he'd have a dainty accent to represent his nobility and higher birth.
"Red and blue," ask stated by Master Freldo, "scimitar and shield and a silence about him that impresses me to no end."
Tis the way that Master spoketh of one he called Steel when My Lord cameth and requested down his pack from my back to obtain his tools utilized in the smelting of metals. It would seem that Master Freldo had goneth unto the cavern that consumed my brother, Oxfordian the Second (blessed be him upon the herds in our heaven) with his companion of the metalic name to retrieve copper and tin to satiate My Lord's desire for arrows.
Perhaps I could bare my soul on a sheet of paper, bleed words true and vivid of how I am and how the past months have shaped me into who I am become. But alas, my soul deepened and it's bottom has become a vague idea in my mind so I'd write for ages without touching it's core.
I didn't know what to think, fantastic visions blurred my sight yet none made sense so I just felt and it all came to fruit.
After the mighty wheel of life turned it's cycle, she was in my arms and I could let my heart go free from it's cage and know in that instant and every other that followed, that I was at home in her. Warmth that I had not felt in ages returned to my very core, will rekindled in her tender embrace and the feeling of safety, rare in such tempestuous times and in my life, spread through every part of me. My shell grew dumb, my actions made little sense to me, my resolution melted, my soul was caught and I never wanted to spend a day away from her ever again.
A prison to which one submits to willingly, a flame that burns without being seen...
"Is this love?" some ask and I say "Yes, but only those that truly feel love can understand it."
If I were to take the road of writing about myself as if to a different person, introduce the happenings to the real Freldo, as though I was in a conversion with myself I'd end up writing hours about my crafting.
Interviewer: So Freldo, what's this about mining, smelting and forging arrowheads, I though bards weren't too keen on hard manual labor.
Freldo: That's a good question Freldo, I'm glad you asked it. I was very bored, so bored in fact that I took up woodworking as a hobby, I'm a part time archer, as is to be expected of a good Ilsarian...
I: But there are so few Ilsarian archers about, isn't that odd?
F: Yes, it is, but the Lady is no fool, she knows she needs folks that take the front line... As I was saying, I took up woodworking as a hobby and soon turned my attention to fletching, bowyering isn't really my game as I'm no ranger nor dedicated archer and besides, I have that nice bow that I bought a little while back...
I: The one that you traded your old mahogany one for? With all the nice bells and whistles and that nice engravings in elvish?
F: The same, where was I? Yes, fletching. I took it up as a hobby and it became more and more natural to me so now I've started to make my own higher quality arrows out of...
I: Out of what?
F: Will you please let me finish? Out of...
I: Sorry, no more interruptions.
F: You just interrupted me.
I: Sorry again.
F: Don't be sorry, shut up and let me finish...
I: Ok.
F: Ok what?
I: Ok, I won't interrupt you.
F: Are you a moron? You interrupted me just now!
I: Sorry.
F: Don't be sorry, just be quiet!
I: ...
F: ...
I: Go on.
F: What was the question again?
Possibly I could just be honest with myself and write that the last few months have brought change:
- I've finally been blessed by Ilsare and fate;
- I've seen my blessing's life sour yet I stood with her and will continue to do so;
- I've lost fears of a great many things;
- I've met a few very special individuals;
- I've received reprive from hatred;
- I've touched the sky, the land, the water and my blood has burst in flames.
- I guess I'm happy in the little niche I have.
I could write it that way if I was to write a list.
Now, how should I start?
-
It's funny how some things just write themselves.
...
...
Well, alright, my quill isn't going to write by itself yet despite my little cliche beginning. I might as well write this one by myself.
When I was with Ranewin when she heard of her mother's death and her sister being on Mistone, I knew what kind of trouble I was asking for but I was pretty close to her and "what the heck" I thought. As time passed, I saw that I had chosen wisely (despite myself) and it might have been the reason Ranewin's heart finally swung my way. Yesterday she showed me a letter from her sister where my name was mentioned. I wish I could say that it surprised me but I knew that asking and around in Leilon would have led my name to show up as I'm not very discreet.
Oh well, I can only wait and see what she'll try to pull on me.
Despite Ranewin's worried looks when we speak of it, I'm at ease with the coming showdown as the mere presence of my love is more than enough to instill me with courage that I don't really like to admit that I have. Perhaps that's her power over me, my fears cower from her and she cuts me loose from restraints of mortal worries, a pillar's strength she is.
Things are so good now that I watch the corner of my conscience for a reaper to approach. I don't fear known foes, adversities, actions nor impulses but it's not within the realm of the know that things surprise you to feast upon your misery so I guess I must be prepared.
You know, I think I should treat Ranewin to a trip to sea, maybe just the two of us, something romantic, a cruise around Mistone or some other nice place, perhaps even a longer trip to the Breath, who knows?
Edit: GAWK!
-
Despite almost exclusively making arrows, churning out hundreds of them per sitting, I made my first serious bow.
I'm very hesitant to make bows as my previous attempts, mostly from hickory and all of them ended up exploding in my face. Young bowyers, like I was at the time, must also not realize that one makes a bow along the length of the grain, not against it. Anyway, I had such a disappointing time making those bows and a few oak short bows against my wishes that I never tried it again and that was it.
So there I was, working the long branch into smooth shaft, curving it, recurving it, applying resins to strengthen the bow and finally twisting the wood gently around my legs to string it for the first time. A satisfying twang was my prize as I fired off one of my most expensive arrow an arrow into the target nearby for luck.
I stood there admiring that bow, all my own work from the gathering of the branch to it's first strike, staring at the long slender lines of the grain and seeing in it my will manifested as they curved according to what I wished. The bow was firm in my hand despite it's grip being a bit smaller than what I'm used to on my own bow for, you see, that bow already had an owner.
It was made for a single person from the moment I picked out the best branch from the bundle kept in my crates to the choice of silk to spin into the string. Her hands would grip the bow and it's use would come natural to her for in it's grain was not only my blood and sweat but also my love for my craft, my life and, more importantly, for her.
I unstrung it and placed it among my treasured possessions and left the hall, wondering if it was The Archer of Love's dislike of Dorand that has allowed me to excel, maybe it was the Lady's way of provoking even more ire from the Master of Crafts.
Strange meanings I had in that bow... I had not inscribed anything upon it's wood, it's beauty was not within decorations but from it's simple beauty. It was the Lady's favored weapon, built by her bard for her priestess who just so happen to be in love. Her priestess' coach in the bow would be one that, despite being no official archer, was one of the best craftsman and fishermen among those that still toiled.
Until it left my guard, I kept it secure, I kept it safe until it's rightful owner claimed it.
Under the rain, north of Hlint, was it first used in her hands.
I taught her how to draw as I had learned it but her natural skills skipped us ahead and before long, her uncertain demeanor as she held the bow showed signs of firmness. She drew the bow lightly and it bent to her gentle tug, the arrow, nocked and ready, quivered less at every shot she took.
As the rain drew to it's close, I kissed her wet lips and we headed back home, together.
-
High in the Storm Horn Mountains I sit and write this entry in my travel log.
A soft and warm bearskin on my back, a hot and fierce blaze in front of me, snow lazily falling from the heavens as night encroaches on this part of the world. The soft white powder on ground, already deep enough to wipe the traces of my steps from Highpass, still in sight only a few miles away and down the long slope, it's buildings slowly turning into a series of lit squares from here. Another dry branch on the fire and it sparks to life in the heat crackling as it warms to the idea of burning. The fire chases away the cold, the freezing cold, that lingers not five steps away from it's heat and from this place where all convenes, I sit and write this entry in my travel log.
Not that long ago and quite a bit away, I kissed her good-bye and sped into the early afternoon towards sanctuary in the cold crisp air. It had been another fine trip, nobody nearly dead like last time, but we still need to get our act together if we want to pull this off with greater effect and lesser effort. The vein was terribly weak, so weak that even my weak blows were enough to whisk away its precious resource, a pity as I was actually prepared for a greater vein. After the disappointing dig, we gathered our gear, collected our favorite apples and left the ledge towards what we knew as safety, a race up the the hill, over the bridge and down towards the docks. The captain and his small crew were waiting for the last of the foolish visitors, which fortunately weren't us, to return so we stood around and talked a little before we set off back to Xora's Tower.
Last time, a nightmare nearly took place at the same spot we rushed... Actually, I rushed, quite the foolish thing to do but I had underestimated our foes and we almost paid for it with our lives, luckily she had the foresight to speed our natural healing so we survived intact. Our return to the ship was a moment of reflection for me as I ran through the chaos that almost took our lives. So we arrived and waited, it seemed that a group had gone deep within the flames and the captain would not set off until they arrived so we had lots of time for ourselves.
Her sharp memory brought back things from my first trip here so long ago. We professed and confessed what we know to be true, the grace and joy that we had in each embrace and kiss, how wonderful it was to be lost and found by the other, how deep the drink we could take from the well and know it would never be empty. In recesses of my mind I hear that perhaps "forever" is too strong a word and that it will all end some day but another recess cites that there is no such thing as external punishment for things that are derived from pleasure and that it's only an allegory created by traditional religious teachings to impose guilt and decry as impure and unworthy those that enjoy life a bit too much - needless to say, the second recess of my mind is overly sophisticated.
We stood embraced on the volcanic, ash covered shore, and shared the fullness of all of eternity in a loving kiss and embrace. The occasional high bursts of fire from the deep mountains reflected on the water and showered us in the Archer's color as time. stood. still.
In what seemed like an instant afterwards we were heading back home, packs full of ore, hand in hand and feeling and knowing that heart and souls were one.
Now I am here alone in dusk's cold air, surrounded by ice held back by fire on this winter hardened ground. I thought I loved being alone with my thoughts, song and the distant, distant echo of harmony that resides a whisper away from silence. I had wanted, for a little while, to be alone and dream awake, to give flight to my demons, my aspirations, my desires, my hopes and my self. I look over the land once green land now dressed in white and gray as light fades fast, dawn hours away, as I sit and write this entry in my travel log, wanting nothing more than to be with her.
-
So much to write about, where to begin? So much has happened, so much I've reflected on and so much I need to write down for fear that my short attention span catches up and... *doodles...* I end up forgetting what I was writing about. It's best to list the stuff and then I'll worry about organizing them: - Lilly's consistent state of moving away from me and others that like her. - Jennara's tour and invitation to help out the folks of Roldem. - Desperately seeking arrows! - Irritating Folks. - Ranéwin's sad encounter with the soul mother. - An honest conversation with Ranéwin... also known as a confession of my past. Easy one first... Desperately Seeking Arrows... So I've taken a liking to shooting arrows off like there was no tomorrow. Ranewin and I, along with our summons from Ilsare had quite a time shooting everything that charged us on the road to Rodez the other day - I went through at least eight quivers, bringing my total of arrows down to a meager five sets of a hundred, it must be hell and expensive to be a full fledged archer and go through eight quivers per trip. Anyway, time for me to make more arrows, a lot more arrows, thank goodness it's not hard anymore, I can even smelt my own iron and platinum if I need to... Perhaps I should start selling the bundle of mahogany arrows, I could make a killing with them as the Almighty Lens of True Prices sets their price so high. Unless you belong to the Cult of the Racial Superior, in which case you only pay two thousand trues for a set of platinum full plate and resell it for fourteen thousand and pretend to care by requesting servitude, or credit, as a form of payment. Anyway, I'll probably finish up this entry, pack a crate of mahogany and go make a few hundred arrows as Ranéwin's also going through them like they were going out of style. Jennara's Tour and Request for Help We meet in Rodez for a little trip towards Silden and Jennara is there. It's very clear to us that we have our philosophical and personal differences but I can't help liking the quiet gal, her sharp eye and seriousness puts me in my place without ever really offending me. I actually want to behave around her... Quite a talent that very few have, not even the morons that some folks prostrate themselves to touch me so deeply, I'd have to say that I have such legitimate reverence for a handful. Anyway, she told the group of the story of the battle that ended up in the destruction of Tibum, one that I had heard before, and we set out towards Silden, Tibum and we even went to visit the Monastery of Dreams where Reriel asked us to put a stop to the silliness of some renegade monks, which we did of course, and were nicely rewarded, I even got to keep the robes that Mylindra found in a crate despite the fact that it made me look like I was eight months pregnant. The important bit was that Jennara asked me to help out the fisherman of Roldem. I confess that I got so involved with being overjoyed that I missed the finer points of our chat but, from what I understood, she needs some folks to help bring the fishing trade back on it's feet and also to reach deep into Alibor for some prime fish. Luckily I still remember the horrors of The River of Death so I'll have the necessary respect for it. I'll anxiously await Jennara's call and I'll probably get to work on my technique with the rod and the reel as bows and fishing arrows aren't every effective in the high seas. Irritating Folks! I wonder if it's a crime to desire someone death for not speaking in an understandable way... Nah, probably not. I must exclude folks with speech impediments and dyslexia from my list of people that I wish dead, dwarfs are born with potatoes in their mouths, tiefers might have fangs or forked tongues, some folks have a really, really strong accent and some have a difficult time in organizing sentences, though no fault of their own. Those I have no trouble with, I can usually piece things together but my pain with those that consider themselves learned yet talk as though they were challanged. I also nurture a deep hatred of the "no offense" folks... "No offense, but your mother sells herself for a copper a day"... as though "no offense" was a prefix that exempts the speaker from the guilt of being a moron. It's a shame that the common tongue, fruit of ages, is butchered and abused. Lillian's Voyages I mentioned to Ranéwin that I usually ignore what Lilly says. She suggested that I start paying attention and that made me touch on thinking about what Lilly and I have or had. No longer is she the same person that I know a time ago, she used to sway from blood thirsty killer to sweet gal but the sweet gal in her is rarer and rarer. She's a mercenary now, disappearing for days and months at a time and only coming home to drop off a nice present or two before taking off again in the middle of the night. Mind you, I really love the gifts but that's not why I like her, it's her and she's never around anymore, she never sits to talk with me and she's even gone so far as mistreat Lyle for no good reason. On further thought, I don't even know her when I see her - I know her face well, I know her voice and I know her laugh but she's changed. Either I've become so attached to her that I have her so close to my heart that I fear change or she really has changed. She blames her swing towards blood on her time spent with the drow, which I think is hilarious as she has a devotion towards Daralith that's so strong that she goes to great lengths to stick up for him. I also like Daralith, he's a funny guy in a twisted way, but I know how vile he can be from his talking and I have no illusions that he's not one to spread blessings of joy and laughter yet Lilly follows him like a dog. I don't know, I'd love to talk with her about this but I'm sure she's a lot more interested in diving for emeralds, mithril, titanium and other things that I've only heard of, no time to talk with one that loves her and wants to see her better. I owe Lilly a lot, a lot more than is healthy, but the way things are going with her hurts me so much. I miss coming into my room and seeing her sound asleep on my bed at the Arms Inn. I miss calling her my pack halfling and having her pout. I miss her caking mud on my bed with her stout boots. I miss having her mess up my room. I miss her giggling as she unloaded tons of coal into the Coal Crates while I slowly descended into panic. I miss having having her around. I even miss her bossing me around. I go and sit in her room sometimes, wondering where the "delicate" gal that decorated the room so sensibly is and if she'll ever come back. Ranéwin's Tale, a Soul, a Confession and Deep Feelings This bard is blessed with the luck of heroes... or halflings as so many like to remind me. Despite not voraciously eating pies, my father's sense of humor in giving me my name, my choice of halfling-ish colors and my adoration of all things halfling-height (including gnomes, despite their noses) have come to mean that I am a halfling trapped in a human's body - perhaps I can understand Acacea a little better in saying that we're of the wrong height. Anyway, my luck of the halfling folk has granted me safety and peace from the Soul Mother, except that one time, which I remember so well, under Arms Keep where I lost my only string. Anyway, on Ranéwin's encounter with the soul mother... I hope to the gods nobody finds this journal for the next few sentences would cost me my life at the hands of the one I love and loves me - such a poetic death that I am almost tempted to open it for all eyes to see and await my just punishment. At the end of our trip, I wanted to show her the walking chests that guard the portal to Pandemonium, at least that's how I remember it. We entered, on my insistence and tragedy struck as we were unprepared for the chest's hard lid and crushing weight. We fled but the chest was faster and it took her down with a thunderous bite and on the cavern entrance my love lost a string of her soul. Either she died to protect me, or luck shown on me as they pursued her - I don't know and I didn't care. I fled the butchery and my luck would keep me alive a little longer as bears that we had avoided narrowly avoided killing me. We spared them out of respect for nature and nature set them on me for I was certainly an easy snack for them. I hurried towards shelter and tended to my own wounds before letting loose a storm of tears and misery for not being able to help her. I awaited her return in quiet sobbing and as an ache of sadness, that drove me to want to tear my beating heart out, swelled. As she appeared I wiped away my tears, swallowed my self-loathing and turned my best face and hopes towards her... She was still as radiant and precious as every time I saw her but the gnawing of my conscience allowed the clouds of doubt to cover my sun and I was ashamed to be with her. A kiss and she blew them away but I knew and know where I erred and I can never forgive myself for my hurry. I have no intention of knowing how many more strings she has to tie her to this mortal plane for I accept that all things live and die - except for the wicked, they live on to spit on the face of the good that pass surrounded in light. Time with her is precious... so precious and we sat and talked of things we've kept from each other. We came around to revealing our secrets, at least those that might affect the other, and I told her of the time long ago where I seized the reins of opportunity and dug myself into a hole where I could have lost myself in. I confessed what I did and that I knew I was wrong. I explained to her that I never really knew what happened and that my feelings were still a bit confused but that I had made my choice now, no matter if the past came back for another go. She told me of her past, of times when I was a boy - of her heart's beating and of the silliness of youth. I know I'm avoiding something with her though. Not a secret and certainly not a lie... I think I'm waiting for the right time before revealing this last little bit, one that shouldn't surprise her but would change her life and my life forever. But for now, we'll glide on our shared wings, hoping and wishing that it need not end.
-
The Spirit Dunes are huge!
I guess I am capable of getting lost after all, that's what happens when I don't pay attention to where I'm going. I mean, I know there were a lot of scorpions here but when I finally went over to look at them I left the beaten path and ended up in a camp of sorts, and I have no clue where to go now. Hopefully no nasties are waiting for me in that hole in the ground.
While I wait for help - also known as my gallant fiancée and her noble steed - I might as well fill out this battered journal since I've got nothing else better to do other than sun dry some meat, tune my fiddle and whittle some mahogany into toothpicks.
This journal looks worn out and excessively heavy, I think I'll make myself a new one and retire this to the library.
From the look of the last dozen pages or so, I haven't written in here for a really long time, perhaps a year, so I'd better write the important stuff.
A Leap
I'm getting married soon and as luck, fate and destiny would have it, it's to Ranéwin.
Luck for I could have ended up marrying anyone for not only do I have stunningly rugged good looks but I'm also a pretty good craftsman - I'm sure some warrior gal would eventually let her guard down to snag me as her workhorse.
Fate and destiny... Fate and destiny... I'd better check the first volume of my journals at home, but I'm pretty sure I've been drooling for her for ages and after all that I've suffered, to hold her and have her call me hers is simply... sublime. Cole brought us together, winds blew us apart, we met again on the day the clouds came, the unresolved past separated us and now as if in the Archer's plan, we're now one. The past, though full of pain, built this moment for me - without all that happened, disgraces and errors, I would not have been able to appreciate the simple sitting with her by our fireplace.
Subtle and sublime, delicate and divine.
Our pieces fell into place after so long.
I cannot grow tired of her and I'm almost sure the reciprocal is true.
Together 'till I fade and vanish and afterwards in the Lady's dream.
So the preparations are nearly all done, I need to write the invitation and send them, my list is a very shallow list for many reasons. After that, the silly exhibitionist ceremony to confirm what we and the Dreamy Lady know by heart.
I was afraid of marriage, and I still play the part for Ranéwin's amusement, but I want this with every fiber of my being.
Anyway, that's how it is - Freldo and Ranéwin are to be married.
...
You know what, nothing else I've done this past year is even remotely as nice as what I've just written, I'm finding it hard to best it with my travels to Belinara, Tilmar and the grove we found there, the Monastery of Dreams, romping in Dregar, chipping fire opals by myself, my meeting with Treana, my letter to Calvin and how much Lilly hurt me but seemed to make it up.
I guess that's it, I'm still lost (not really, but let's say I am) in this ocean of sand after concluding that the greatest thing I've ever done is to have fallen in love, lost it, found it and then let it spread through out my life. I have become the lesson Lady Reventage taught me so long ago, when I asked her what it was to follow the Heart of Gold - I was truly born for this.
Anyway, back to tending to my signal fire and wait for my princess in shining armor to save her fella in distress.