Dear Diary 7
July 8th 2009 05:33
Dear Diary,
I had the nightmares again last night. This blood will never wash off of my hands; these memories will be a stain on my soul until the day I die. War scars all men, even those who do not die, who are never really wounded. None of us will forget these days, these harsh times. In which we must kill, in which we must fight.
We will lose friends; you grow close to men you fight with-and many die. Many who do not die on the outside die on the inside, forever changed by what they see and do during this crucial time.
I must not think on this any longer. The dreams are bad enough. I have barely had a good sleep since I began fighting in this war. I need some Dreamless Sleep tea. Something to keep the bad dreams away. I know Shalorin would appreciate it as well. Perhaps in the morn I will gallop to the monastery-on Starlight it will only be an hour each way, rather than three days. They will have Dreamless Sleep tea. They will have many teas and potions I should stock up on.
Shalorin spent most of the day teaching the girl Appollinian; he tells me she is learning quickly, supernaturally so. It doesn't surprise me. I can see brilliance in her eyes-she seems like quite the talented young woman. I am glad it was I who stumbled upon her. Any other soldier would have killed her without a thought.
Today I rested, as much as I could. I talked with some of the other generals about how the war is going and about what we did on the other side of the border. The rest of the day was spent growing familiar with Starlight. I practiced riding her for the first time today, and rode for hours. Riding a Shadowmare-especially during their magic gallop-takes some getting used to. Elvish warhorses are specially bred and quite powerful, quite well tamed, but Shadowmares are purely magical. You can tell just by looking at them.
There is fighting going on, but I'm not at the front of it right now. Neither are my men. For the next two days we will not need to worry about the fighting-soon we will move closer to the fighting itself though. At that point we will have to be armed at all times and watch carefully, but we won't be fighting actively. Just a line of defense-right now we are at the center, fully defended. The generals have asked for my advice and I will spend the next couple of days helping them plan, and then we will move back closer to the border.
I had to describe yesterday what I have seen beyond the border. The young children and the women fighting, ready for anything. Some of them looked like they had been training for at least a year-others were simply attacking with whatever they had, with no rhyme or reason to their strikes. It was a sad thing to see, the way Fidolius has turned its children into an army.
They are unhappy about the girl, but knowing that I will soon send her to my sister, they are not as worried as they would have been otherwise. They know that my sister will keep careful watch, as will Shalorin. She will not be able to betray us to her people.
I know she will have to be sent to my sister soon; today I sent the letter that will tell my sister she is coming. Elves have magical ways of communicating, ways much faster than any ordinary horseman. Not telepathy or anything like that-that is a certain brand of magic that we dare not dabble in, a toy not for us to play with. But she will know tomorrow afternoon, and within the week I will know her decision, if the girl can go or not. I know my sister well. She cannot refuse the girl a safe place to stay. She has that same warmth in her heart, the warmth which made me stop and help the girl in the first place.
My sister does speak fluent Fidolian, but the girl will need to travel to the Elvish kingdom. She will need guards-I don't know who I can spare, and I know even less who I can trust. She needs to be able to communicate with these guards, and none of my men are fluent in Fidolian. We all know some of it-certain things that we must know for diplomacy's sake-but none of us except Shalorin know all of it. I only studied it for six months at Elorian; after that I lost interest, and only six months of it was mandatory.
My sister is absolutely brilliant. She doesn't teach at Elorian, in fact she doesn't really teach at all, but that's not because she's incapable. It's because that was never her calling. She spends most of her time raising her two children. When she isn't doing that she's painting for the various temples; her art is famous among my people. Her paintings are absolutely beautiful. She was the one that taught me to paint, as well as to weave tapestries. I've always preferred the tapestries myself.
She paints murals on the walls of temples and the houses of the rich, usually portraying deities or scenes from myth. There are many things she could do with her talents, but art has always been her calling like mine has always been swordplay. She knows every language fluently; even languages that have been mostly out of use for centuries. She knows every myth inside and out, every religion like the back of her hand. She can fight-she's a match for me, even. She can dance, she can sing. She knows everything about history. She's amazing with magic. My sister astounds me.
With her is the safest place for the girl... and it is far away from the horrors that we must face here. With that I must go to sleep; my eyes are aching and tomorrow I must work-there is no more time for rest.
~Alaendril
I had the nightmares again last night. This blood will never wash off of my hands; these memories will be a stain on my soul until the day I die. War scars all men, even those who do not die, who are never really wounded. None of us will forget these days, these harsh times. In which we must kill, in which we must fight.
We will lose friends; you grow close to men you fight with-and many die. Many who do not die on the outside die on the inside, forever changed by what they see and do during this crucial time.
I must not think on this any longer. The dreams are bad enough. I have barely had a good sleep since I began fighting in this war. I need some Dreamless Sleep tea. Something to keep the bad dreams away. I know Shalorin would appreciate it as well. Perhaps in the morn I will gallop to the monastery-on Starlight it will only be an hour each way, rather than three days. They will have Dreamless Sleep tea. They will have many teas and potions I should stock up on.
Shalorin spent most of the day teaching the girl Appollinian; he tells me she is learning quickly, supernaturally so. It doesn't surprise me. I can see brilliance in her eyes-she seems like quite the talented young woman. I am glad it was I who stumbled upon her. Any other soldier would have killed her without a thought.
Today I rested, as much as I could. I talked with some of the other generals about how the war is going and about what we did on the other side of the border. The rest of the day was spent growing familiar with Starlight. I practiced riding her for the first time today, and rode for hours. Riding a Shadowmare-especially during their magic gallop-takes some getting used to. Elvish warhorses are specially bred and quite powerful, quite well tamed, but Shadowmares are purely magical. You can tell just by looking at them.
There is fighting going on, but I'm not at the front of it right now. Neither are my men. For the next two days we will not need to worry about the fighting-soon we will move closer to the fighting itself though. At that point we will have to be armed at all times and watch carefully, but we won't be fighting actively. Just a line of defense-right now we are at the center, fully defended. The generals have asked for my advice and I will spend the next couple of days helping them plan, and then we will move back closer to the border.
I had to describe yesterday what I have seen beyond the border. The young children and the women fighting, ready for anything. Some of them looked like they had been training for at least a year-others were simply attacking with whatever they had, with no rhyme or reason to their strikes. It was a sad thing to see, the way Fidolius has turned its children into an army.
They are unhappy about the girl, but knowing that I will soon send her to my sister, they are not as worried as they would have been otherwise. They know that my sister will keep careful watch, as will Shalorin. She will not be able to betray us to her people.
I know she will have to be sent to my sister soon; today I sent the letter that will tell my sister she is coming. Elves have magical ways of communicating, ways much faster than any ordinary horseman. Not telepathy or anything like that-that is a certain brand of magic that we dare not dabble in, a toy not for us to play with. But she will know tomorrow afternoon, and within the week I will know her decision, if the girl can go or not. I know my sister well. She cannot refuse the girl a safe place to stay. She has that same warmth in her heart, the warmth which made me stop and help the girl in the first place.
My sister does speak fluent Fidolian, but the girl will need to travel to the Elvish kingdom. She will need guards-I don't know who I can spare, and I know even less who I can trust. She needs to be able to communicate with these guards, and none of my men are fluent in Fidolian. We all know some of it-certain things that we must know for diplomacy's sake-but none of us except Shalorin know all of it. I only studied it for six months at Elorian; after that I lost interest, and only six months of it was mandatory.
My sister is absolutely brilliant. She doesn't teach at Elorian, in fact she doesn't really teach at all, but that's not because she's incapable. It's because that was never her calling. She spends most of her time raising her two children. When she isn't doing that she's painting for the various temples; her art is famous among my people. Her paintings are absolutely beautiful. She was the one that taught me to paint, as well as to weave tapestries. I've always preferred the tapestries myself.
She paints murals on the walls of temples and the houses of the rich, usually portraying deities or scenes from myth. There are many things she could do with her talents, but art has always been her calling like mine has always been swordplay. She knows every language fluently; even languages that have been mostly out of use for centuries. She knows every myth inside and out, every religion like the back of her hand. She can fight-she's a match for me, even. She can dance, she can sing. She knows everything about history. She's amazing with magic. My sister astounds me.
With her is the safest place for the girl... and it is far away from the horrors that we must face here. With that I must go to sleep; my eyes are aching and tomorrow I must work-there is no more time for rest.
~Alaendril
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