Dear Diary 19
July 19th 2009 19:06
Dear Diary,
The fighting goes on around me, but I do not join in. For these are my days of rest; and I am grateful for them. I spent most of my day reading. Every once in a while I would hear a particularly nasty scream from the battlefield and look up, wishing there was more I could do. But I have fought long and hard for my people, and I am injured. In this condition I cannot fight, it is a sure way to die-my arm is too weak to swing around the sword.
I woke up late again, and ate lunch with the rest of my men, talking to Shalorin. Out here we can actually take time to eat lunch all at once; there are other men to fight. Shalorin is still scarred from the loss of Elric, but thankfully we have lost no more.
He speaks of his fiance. Things are not going so well at the Drakor border, he says. Not many of them have come up this way, most of them still fight there-but the Fidolian forces far outnumber their own. He tells me that it seems as if they are trying to break through Drakor defenses and sneak into Appollinia via the Drakor border. It makes sense, but it does not make me happy.
Today he got a letter from his fiance, and when we had our nightly tea together, he showed me this letter:
Dear Shalorin,
I miss you more with each passing day. The fighting goes on only two days away from us; and I wish you were here to help us. The village is full of injured soldiers, making their way into the temples and begging for help. They tell us that a great force has amassed at our borders, and that our men are not enough in number to fend them off for much longer.
This is Fidolius' sneak attack; to send a large force against us, destroy us and then through our land attack another of Appollinia's borders. Only our friends the Elves are safe should they pass our borders. I think this might be the end for us, Shalorin.
I want you to come home, so that I may see you; so that I may hold you in what may well be our final days. But I know I cannot ask this of you, for you fight for our people and for our allies in these moments. I just wish you were close enough for me to see you, close enough that I could travel to you and give you one hug, one kiss... just in case.
Fight long, fight hard. We back home are cheering for you. My family sends their love to you. I pray that they do not break our borders-for I have faith that at the end of this war you will come home to me... so long as there is a home and a me to come back to.
~Elysia
I read this and my heart sank. Tomorrow I will go to the generals and ask if my men can have a different placement. I can see the worry, the fear in Shalorin's eyes. He wants to defend the border of his homeland, and for him I will try and get us moved to that border; he cannot fight like this. I closed my eyes the moment I read this and turned away with a heavy sigh.
He begged me to ask the generals to let us go down to the Drakor border. With the skill so many of our men have we could do a lot of damage to the Fidolian forces down there. He has a fiance, and someday he will start a family. When this war is over Shalorin will start a family, so long as his love is still there; and he will be a great father.
He does not need to lose this woman. He loves her so dearly and deserves her so. I know that if our positions were reversed, he would do the same for me; but I have never found love. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will find love-I hope I do, because it is something I feel that everyone should have a chance to experience. For now I will simply help Shalorin keep his love.
While I was not with Shalorin I was reading books on the customs of Fidolius. They believe in some very strange things; their funeral and wedding customs are the strangest things I have ever read about.
Here's a little excerpt on the concept of slavery:
'The God Merrique (The Demon) built large houses and castles for his most devout worshippers, bringing them together in one city. Though many of his people were at first nomadic, moving around within their designated territory, his most faithful group stumbled into a city that he had built and chose to live there.
Early on they developed slavery; bands of ten or twelve men would go out on hunts, and while they hunted for food, they would also kidnap these nomads. The nomads at the time did not truly believe in Merrique; they believed in a higher power, but he was not it. They were called 'heretics' and 'Blasphemers' and sentenced to live out their lives in slavery.
Over time the nomads became more religious, having seen more signs that Merrique did exist, and soon they were faithful and living in their own cities and towns. They, too, wanted slaves now that they saw the usefulness. And so they began to kidnap no-name poor children from Appollinia for their slavery; after all, they were Blasphemers too.'
There is much more, but that gives a general feel for it. Not all the slaves are Blasphemers; some of them fell into extreme debt and are now forced to work their way out of it, spending their lives enslaved. Some of them were born into it because their parents were slaves, and those are the most hopeless of all-they will never escape.
I still wonder: how many of those men that fight half heartedly at the border are slaves made to fight against their will? But I should not contemplate these things. It is time for me to sleep.
~Alaendril
The fighting goes on around me, but I do not join in. For these are my days of rest; and I am grateful for them. I spent most of my day reading. Every once in a while I would hear a particularly nasty scream from the battlefield and look up, wishing there was more I could do. But I have fought long and hard for my people, and I am injured. In this condition I cannot fight, it is a sure way to die-my arm is too weak to swing around the sword.
I woke up late again, and ate lunch with the rest of my men, talking to Shalorin. Out here we can actually take time to eat lunch all at once; there are other men to fight. Shalorin is still scarred from the loss of Elric, but thankfully we have lost no more.
He speaks of his fiance. Things are not going so well at the Drakor border, he says. Not many of them have come up this way, most of them still fight there-but the Fidolian forces far outnumber their own. He tells me that it seems as if they are trying to break through Drakor defenses and sneak into Appollinia via the Drakor border. It makes sense, but it does not make me happy.
Today he got a letter from his fiance, and when we had our nightly tea together, he showed me this letter:
Dear Shalorin,
I miss you more with each passing day. The fighting goes on only two days away from us; and I wish you were here to help us. The village is full of injured soldiers, making their way into the temples and begging for help. They tell us that a great force has amassed at our borders, and that our men are not enough in number to fend them off for much longer.
This is Fidolius' sneak attack; to send a large force against us, destroy us and then through our land attack another of Appollinia's borders. Only our friends the Elves are safe should they pass our borders. I think this might be the end for us, Shalorin.
I want you to come home, so that I may see you; so that I may hold you in what may well be our final days. But I know I cannot ask this of you, for you fight for our people and for our allies in these moments. I just wish you were close enough for me to see you, close enough that I could travel to you and give you one hug, one kiss... just in case.
Fight long, fight hard. We back home are cheering for you. My family sends their love to you. I pray that they do not break our borders-for I have faith that at the end of this war you will come home to me... so long as there is a home and a me to come back to.
~Elysia
I read this and my heart sank. Tomorrow I will go to the generals and ask if my men can have a different placement. I can see the worry, the fear in Shalorin's eyes. He wants to defend the border of his homeland, and for him I will try and get us moved to that border; he cannot fight like this. I closed my eyes the moment I read this and turned away with a heavy sigh.
He begged me to ask the generals to let us go down to the Drakor border. With the skill so many of our men have we could do a lot of damage to the Fidolian forces down there. He has a fiance, and someday he will start a family. When this war is over Shalorin will start a family, so long as his love is still there; and he will be a great father.
He does not need to lose this woman. He loves her so dearly and deserves her so. I know that if our positions were reversed, he would do the same for me; but I have never found love. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will find love-I hope I do, because it is something I feel that everyone should have a chance to experience. For now I will simply help Shalorin keep his love.
While I was not with Shalorin I was reading books on the customs of Fidolius. They believe in some very strange things; their funeral and wedding customs are the strangest things I have ever read about.
Here's a little excerpt on the concept of slavery:
'The God Merrique (The Demon) built large houses and castles for his most devout worshippers, bringing them together in one city. Though many of his people were at first nomadic, moving around within their designated territory, his most faithful group stumbled into a city that he had built and chose to live there.
Early on they developed slavery; bands of ten or twelve men would go out on hunts, and while they hunted for food, they would also kidnap these nomads. The nomads at the time did not truly believe in Merrique; they believed in a higher power, but he was not it. They were called 'heretics' and 'Blasphemers' and sentenced to live out their lives in slavery.
Over time the nomads became more religious, having seen more signs that Merrique did exist, and soon they were faithful and living in their own cities and towns. They, too, wanted slaves now that they saw the usefulness. And so they began to kidnap no-name poor children from Appollinia for their slavery; after all, they were Blasphemers too.'
There is much more, but that gives a general feel for it. Not all the slaves are Blasphemers; some of them fell into extreme debt and are now forced to work their way out of it, spending their lives enslaved. Some of them were born into it because their parents were slaves, and those are the most hopeless of all-they will never escape.
I still wonder: how many of those men that fight half heartedly at the border are slaves made to fight against their will? But I should not contemplate these things. It is time for me to sleep.
~Alaendril
| 24 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
subscribe to this blog
