Freldo Jabutica's Journal and Letters, Volume Two

[SuperMunch]

This is the second volume of Freldo's Journal and Letters started in this thread.

Lastest update:

Journal Entry: Help!  Help! (/* March 1, 2007 */)

Journal Entry: Catching up (/* Febuary 6, 2007 */)

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

---

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!

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.
*/

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.  
*/

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.

[SuperMunch]

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.
*/

[SuperMunch]

/*
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
*/