There are some things that cannot be written, stories that cannot be told. Not the way they were meant to at least.

No words can ever describe the way we felt in those days, no phrase can encompass the way they sounded as they laughed and danced and played. There are certain things in life that cannot be captured by any fancy wording or heartfelt passages.

In fact I could spend pages just describing a single smile of just a single friend with whom I so desperately wish to tell you about. But words cannot even properly express the beauty, the grace, the jauntiness of the campfire then.

I remember how they all looked at one another, how they danced around in circles, laughing gaily at their fun.

The war was over then, Morgarath had fallen and Will had come home, a Ranger at last. Evanlyn was returned safely, Horace had married to her and Will to Alice, Gilan to Jenny, Halt to Pauline. The world was moving at last.

The skandians had come as had all of their other foreign friends from all sorts of places and they were happy. They drank merrily and their songs were loud and yet no one cared, this was a happy night after all.

Will and Alyss were dancing slowly, despite the fast tempo the playful musicians of their group were playing. They simply spun in slow circles, gazing into one another's eyes and smiling, whispering words to one another from time to time and laughing.

Gilan and Jenny were dancing energetically to the eccentric tune and were laughing like mad men, simply enjoying the night as it was, lost within each other and happily so. I remember this well in fact because at one point they took my hands and made me join in with them though I quickly escaped.

Halt and Pauline were sitting with Crowley on an old log, gazing at the stars above and chatting quietly about old times and they were happy in their own way, quiet and serene and gentle.

Horace and Evanlyn were both competing with the skandians on who could sing their old ballads the best and honestly, I'll admit, Horace was winning. They were laughing and Erak was roaring, wiping tears from his eyes and clapping Gundar on the back.

Malcolm was debating animatedly with Shigeru about something and the both seemed to be amusing themselves.

Tug and all the rest of the horses seemed to celebrating the night in their own way, running about in a clear part of their campsite, looking as though they were playing tag with one another and if I didn't know better Id have said Will's dog, Deliah was IT.

It is like I said before, no amount of words can ever explain that night, no phrases can ever properly describe the joy then, the peacefulness. They can only hint at the very beginning of what it felt like when the story finally came to a close. We knew then that our stories would continue but we had not a doubt that the worst was now behind us. The world could wait, we had lives to live.

-George

Scribe of the West Mark