Dear Diary 21
July 21st 2009 17:33
Dear Diary,
Today we rose before the sun and ate our breakfast early. We packed up our tents and our bags and put them in our storage wagons-my group has two. I talked briefly with the other generals, who told us to travel along the Appollinian border towards Drakor territory, stopping to help if help was needed anywhere.
I delayed our departure by a couple extra hours by galloping over to the monastery to pick up more teas and healing herbs just in case. The Seer called me into her office before I left. She looked at me, though she could not see me, with a sad smile.
“I see you go now to help my people,” she said, “thank you for your bravery.”
“I chose this path to ease the suffering of my brother, who fears as well for his wife in Drakor lands.”
“I know this as well. I see many things, Alaendril, many of which you do not see; my eyes may be blind but my vision is clearer than ever before. It will take you a while to get down to the Drakor lands; there will be delays-I can see already. And when you get there you will drive back the Fidolian army... and after this battle, Alaendril, you will never be the same.”
“Every battle changes me, my lady. Each man I kill leaves a scar on my heart and more blood on my hands, which though I wash it, will never fully leave.”
“I know. I... have killed men before, when I was running. And to this day the look in their eyes as they died still haunts me. I understand what you mean when you say this, but you must understand that when I say you will never be the same, I mean it on a much deeper level. You will be changed deeply by the events when you reach that border. Very deeply. You will feel a pain more powerful than anything you have imagined; and a joy stronger than you could perceive.”
“Alaendril... when you meet her, do what you feel is right by her. Do not care for your brothers or your men. They can do without you, though they may not see their own strength now; she cannot live without you. You will understand when the time comes.”
Why do they tell me these things? Give me these veiled hints of my future, without ever really showing me what path I must walk? It frustrates me. Frustrated and confused I rode back to the camp and led my men away from the main group. Away from the fighting, away from this horrible war; but I knew we weren't really moving away from it. Everywhere we went it would follow us-we could not abandon our posts, but suddenly I desperately wanted to.
I wanted to run far, far away. My honour bound me to this war but suddenly I was worried. I could not put my finger on what exactly had triggered this fear in me, and I can only assume it was something in the words of the Seer that brought me into this state.
We arrived at one of the border forts mid-afternoon and decided to stop there, because at least there were other men on our side at this part of the border. Shalorin and I went into the fort to speak to the general in charge here, and were told we would have to wait for a few minutes. We said nothing while we waited; there was no real conversation to be had, at least not where other ears could hear my words. I wasn't even sure if I should tell Shalorin the words the Seer had said to me.
The general saw us and we told him we would be camping outside for the night. All his rooms were full, obviously; the fort was overflowing with soldiers. I had seen them patrolling in groups of three around the area. There was no real fighting going on here right now, thankfully, but their scouts thought an attack was coming soon.
As I sat there I wondered again why the Appollinian army does not strike Fidolius at its core; why do we not simply attack them as they have attacked us? We could easily destroy them if we threw most of our power into it; but those are not our orders, and I am no King so I must follow them rather than make them.
Why do they not see that for two years we have defended our borders? As the hot summer sets in the Fidolians have their advantage, at least against the Elves. It is much cooler where I come from; I am not used to sweating hard simply from riding my horse. But I am also not used to riding a Shadowmare. The Fidolians prefer the heat. I don't know why but I know that this is true. And for some reason it is much hotter where they are. I have met the Fidolian King once, when he made a trip to our lands; and he complained many times that it was cold, though it was only the end of summer.
Why do the Appollinians not see that this strategy we have employed for two years is not working to prove our point? Why do they not send me and my men out past the border so we can decimate their armies? I have very powerful magic; magic no human is strong enough to possess. If I was given permission, I could lay waste to half of their country. But no, we must do things this way, the passive way. Do they not see that so long as we fight this way the Fidolians think we are weak?
I realize that it is fruitless to complain but that is really what I feel like doing in this moment. It is simply too much for me to deal with this crap. I must sleep now; we leave with the dawn once more, unless there truly are attackers knocking on the door.
~Alaendril
Today we rose before the sun and ate our breakfast early. We packed up our tents and our bags and put them in our storage wagons-my group has two. I talked briefly with the other generals, who told us to travel along the Appollinian border towards Drakor territory, stopping to help if help was needed anywhere.
I delayed our departure by a couple extra hours by galloping over to the monastery to pick up more teas and healing herbs just in case. The Seer called me into her office before I left. She looked at me, though she could not see me, with a sad smile.
“I see you go now to help my people,” she said, “thank you for your bravery.”
“I chose this path to ease the suffering of my brother, who fears as well for his wife in Drakor lands.”
“I know this as well. I see many things, Alaendril, many of which you do not see; my eyes may be blind but my vision is clearer than ever before. It will take you a while to get down to the Drakor lands; there will be delays-I can see already. And when you get there you will drive back the Fidolian army... and after this battle, Alaendril, you will never be the same.”
“Every battle changes me, my lady. Each man I kill leaves a scar on my heart and more blood on my hands, which though I wash it, will never fully leave.”
“I know. I... have killed men before, when I was running. And to this day the look in their eyes as they died still haunts me. I understand what you mean when you say this, but you must understand that when I say you will never be the same, I mean it on a much deeper level. You will be changed deeply by the events when you reach that border. Very deeply. You will feel a pain more powerful than anything you have imagined; and a joy stronger than you could perceive.”
“Alaendril... when you meet her, do what you feel is right by her. Do not care for your brothers or your men. They can do without you, though they may not see their own strength now; she cannot live without you. You will understand when the time comes.”
Why do they tell me these things? Give me these veiled hints of my future, without ever really showing me what path I must walk? It frustrates me. Frustrated and confused I rode back to the camp and led my men away from the main group. Away from the fighting, away from this horrible war; but I knew we weren't really moving away from it. Everywhere we went it would follow us-we could not abandon our posts, but suddenly I desperately wanted to.
I wanted to run far, far away. My honour bound me to this war but suddenly I was worried. I could not put my finger on what exactly had triggered this fear in me, and I can only assume it was something in the words of the Seer that brought me into this state.
We arrived at one of the border forts mid-afternoon and decided to stop there, because at least there were other men on our side at this part of the border. Shalorin and I went into the fort to speak to the general in charge here, and were told we would have to wait for a few minutes. We said nothing while we waited; there was no real conversation to be had, at least not where other ears could hear my words. I wasn't even sure if I should tell Shalorin the words the Seer had said to me.
The general saw us and we told him we would be camping outside for the night. All his rooms were full, obviously; the fort was overflowing with soldiers. I had seen them patrolling in groups of three around the area. There was no real fighting going on here right now, thankfully, but their scouts thought an attack was coming soon.
As I sat there I wondered again why the Appollinian army does not strike Fidolius at its core; why do we not simply attack them as they have attacked us? We could easily destroy them if we threw most of our power into it; but those are not our orders, and I am no King so I must follow them rather than make them.
Why do they not see that for two years we have defended our borders? As the hot summer sets in the Fidolians have their advantage, at least against the Elves. It is much cooler where I come from; I am not used to sweating hard simply from riding my horse. But I am also not used to riding a Shadowmare. The Fidolians prefer the heat. I don't know why but I know that this is true. And for some reason it is much hotter where they are. I have met the Fidolian King once, when he made a trip to our lands; and he complained many times that it was cold, though it was only the end of summer.
Why do the Appollinians not see that this strategy we have employed for two years is not working to prove our point? Why do they not send me and my men out past the border so we can decimate their armies? I have very powerful magic; magic no human is strong enough to possess. If I was given permission, I could lay waste to half of their country. But no, we must do things this way, the passive way. Do they not see that so long as we fight this way the Fidolians think we are weak?
I realize that it is fruitless to complain but that is really what I feel like doing in this moment. It is simply too much for me to deal with this crap. I must sleep now; we leave with the dawn once more, unless there truly are attackers knocking on the door.
~Alaendril
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