Dear Diary 10
July 10th 2009 20:13
Dear Diary,
Today I am tired. I cannot place why, but I am exhausted; I slept well last night, again without dreams-that tea works wonders. Those monks are amazing-they grow the herbs themselves. It's like being back at home, where I had any type of tea I wanted. My sister grows those same herbs. It's interesting how much the Seer of the Monastery reminds me of my sister.
But I am exhausted. I went for a ride with Shalorin and Kaya after breakfast this morning, not a long ride, just through the camp into the beginnings of our forest and then back. As soon as I returned I was called into meetings. There we discussed the war. We know the next big wave of Fidolian soldiers has to be on its way; they've been building this invasion force, or so it seems, for years.
I'm still waiting to hear from my sister, and with each passing day I grow more worried. I know the war has not touched our homeland yet; I doubt it will ever progress far enough beyond this border to reach my home. But I fear for her nonetheless. Perhaps she has fallen ill. I doubt this too, knowing her health when I last saw her and the magic she holds. She is resiliant to many things-a woman stronger than myself would not fall pray to any illness easily.
Perhaps she is traveling. She may be in any number of places in our homeland, and perhaps the message has simply not reached her. I simply wish I knew.
Maybe that is what is making me tired this day. For it is not the heat, though that bears down on me in my armour. It is not the war, for I have been without a fight in days, and I am grateful for this; I hear the fighting, clash of sword on sword, but right now it feels a century away. It is not my sleep itself, for I slept quite some time last night, and slept well without dreams.
I have spent all day planning our defense. The next wave will be coming soon. We have forces spread across our borders and now we lie in wait. I don't know what our theory in this war is, to simply defend our borders. We could so easily just cross onto their land and destroy them, completely and utterly; but the King will not allow it. Perhaps he hopes that if we fight back enough waves of their invasion force they will simply give up and call for peace.
The King is a wise man but he is blind to the truth of this war. He does not even know of the last one; none of the humans do. We, the Elves, have always been permitted to know things that we have sworn not to tell the humans-an oath we all hold, for if one breaks it the entire race will suffer for it. The Gods have wished that humanity could forget these things, and made it happen. They know we live too long to forget as easily. So they bind us, allowing us to remember but forcing us not to tell the other races.
It frustrates me. I want to speak to the King himself, to tell him the truth. That we must push past their borders, for that is the only way they will realize that we overpower them. They see our refusal to push forward as a symbol of weakness, not as what the humans intend it to be.
If only the Gods would tell him themselves. He would not tell the entire world; the royal line has always been loyal to the Gods, more so than any other. Even some of my comrades, some of the Elves do not share the level of loyalty that the royal family has displayed.
But they insist on keeping their secrets, and in some ways I understand. They have made mistakes before, and humans are fickle beings. They do not realize as we, the older species, do that even Gods make mistakes. They expect from their Gods perfection and will abandon ship if they know of the Gods' mistakes. My people live for much longer; we see much more, many more mistakes that are made than any human ever will. They live for at most a century-and most often more like half of one. We live for at least a century, and it is more likely for us to survive ten.
I am so very tired. Tired of knowing things that I cannot say. Tired of this fighting already; and there is no end in sight, until the King makes his decision and sends us forward onto their land. There is no King of the Elves, has not been one in milennia. Only three have ever been, and I am said to be the fourth. I do not know if I want that place, that duty, but if it falls to me I will accept it.
The Council will not act against the King and simply send us out. That would cause diplomatic problems; though it would end the war, it would create tension. Were there a King on our throne, the humans would all simply listen-for we do not have Kings unless they are honourable, wise men. I do not think that I am worthy of the title, but I would take it up if I could, if it would make the Appollinian King see... if I could make him see when I was King...
But I know that the Council is testing me. They are testing the strength and the bravery I will show in this war, to see if I am truly worthy of the title of King. My sister knows this as well, and waits with baited breath. The sword lies deep underground within her mansion, and she is ready to send it at any time, when the Council wills it. For we have no King; if we had a King he would name the next one, if there was to be any at all. We have none and the Council rules in place of a King, as has been the way for many centuries now.
They are wise; I will not argue against that. They keep peace among my people and keep peace and trade with Appollinia and the Drakor. Though peace will come with Fidolius when they have no soldiers left to fight us with, I doubt there will ever be trade there again. They have burned their bridges, and we will not help them rebuild.
I must sleep now, and hope that when I wake I will feel fully rested.
~Alaendril
Today I am tired. I cannot place why, but I am exhausted; I slept well last night, again without dreams-that tea works wonders. Those monks are amazing-they grow the herbs themselves. It's like being back at home, where I had any type of tea I wanted. My sister grows those same herbs. It's interesting how much the Seer of the Monastery reminds me of my sister.
But I am exhausted. I went for a ride with Shalorin and Kaya after breakfast this morning, not a long ride, just through the camp into the beginnings of our forest and then back. As soon as I returned I was called into meetings. There we discussed the war. We know the next big wave of Fidolian soldiers has to be on its way; they've been building this invasion force, or so it seems, for years.
I'm still waiting to hear from my sister, and with each passing day I grow more worried. I know the war has not touched our homeland yet; I doubt it will ever progress far enough beyond this border to reach my home. But I fear for her nonetheless. Perhaps she has fallen ill. I doubt this too, knowing her health when I last saw her and the magic she holds. She is resiliant to many things-a woman stronger than myself would not fall pray to any illness easily.
Perhaps she is traveling. She may be in any number of places in our homeland, and perhaps the message has simply not reached her. I simply wish I knew.
Maybe that is what is making me tired this day. For it is not the heat, though that bears down on me in my armour. It is not the war, for I have been without a fight in days, and I am grateful for this; I hear the fighting, clash of sword on sword, but right now it feels a century away. It is not my sleep itself, for I slept quite some time last night, and slept well without dreams.
I have spent all day planning our defense. The next wave will be coming soon. We have forces spread across our borders and now we lie in wait. I don't know what our theory in this war is, to simply defend our borders. We could so easily just cross onto their land and destroy them, completely and utterly; but the King will not allow it. Perhaps he hopes that if we fight back enough waves of their invasion force they will simply give up and call for peace.
The King is a wise man but he is blind to the truth of this war. He does not even know of the last one; none of the humans do. We, the Elves, have always been permitted to know things that we have sworn not to tell the humans-an oath we all hold, for if one breaks it the entire race will suffer for it. The Gods have wished that humanity could forget these things, and made it happen. They know we live too long to forget as easily. So they bind us, allowing us to remember but forcing us not to tell the other races.
It frustrates me. I want to speak to the King himself, to tell him the truth. That we must push past their borders, for that is the only way they will realize that we overpower them. They see our refusal to push forward as a symbol of weakness, not as what the humans intend it to be.
If only the Gods would tell him themselves. He would not tell the entire world; the royal line has always been loyal to the Gods, more so than any other. Even some of my comrades, some of the Elves do not share the level of loyalty that the royal family has displayed.
But they insist on keeping their secrets, and in some ways I understand. They have made mistakes before, and humans are fickle beings. They do not realize as we, the older species, do that even Gods make mistakes. They expect from their Gods perfection and will abandon ship if they know of the Gods' mistakes. My people live for much longer; we see much more, many more mistakes that are made than any human ever will. They live for at most a century-and most often more like half of one. We live for at least a century, and it is more likely for us to survive ten.
I am so very tired. Tired of knowing things that I cannot say. Tired of this fighting already; and there is no end in sight, until the King makes his decision and sends us forward onto their land. There is no King of the Elves, has not been one in milennia. Only three have ever been, and I am said to be the fourth. I do not know if I want that place, that duty, but if it falls to me I will accept it.
The Council will not act against the King and simply send us out. That would cause diplomatic problems; though it would end the war, it would create tension. Were there a King on our throne, the humans would all simply listen-for we do not have Kings unless they are honourable, wise men. I do not think that I am worthy of the title, but I would take it up if I could, if it would make the Appollinian King see... if I could make him see when I was King...
But I know that the Council is testing me. They are testing the strength and the bravery I will show in this war, to see if I am truly worthy of the title of King. My sister knows this as well, and waits with baited breath. The sword lies deep underground within her mansion, and she is ready to send it at any time, when the Council wills it. For we have no King; if we had a King he would name the next one, if there was to be any at all. We have none and the Council rules in place of a King, as has been the way for many centuries now.
They are wise; I will not argue against that. They keep peace among my people and keep peace and trade with Appollinia and the Drakor. Though peace will come with Fidolius when they have no soldiers left to fight us with, I doubt there will ever be trade there again. They have burned their bridges, and we will not help them rebuild.
I must sleep now, and hope that when I wake I will feel fully rested.
~Alaendril
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