Father.
It seems so trivial a word to describe you, when you were so much more over the course of a lifetime. I've come to realise that as I continue to meet those who you've crossed paths with on the journey that was your life. Some for good, some for ill, yet each one had a story to tell. At each crossing I've learned a little more of the man that you were.
Father.
My earliest memories were of running away. I didn't know what we were running from, but you said that we had to find somewhere safe, so I followed you. We moved around a lot in those early years, finally stopping at a solemn castle dubbed Candlekeep. There were a lot of old men around there, and I think I was frightened by all the frowning faces. You were frowning too, as you talked with them, convincing them to allow us shelter.
Somehow you won them over, and as the years passed, some of them went out of their way to tutor me. I found out that not all the monks in the keep were as dour as they liked to pretend. Of course, there were always the workers and soldiers, men who couldn't keep frowning when they went drinking. There's a lot that you had to explain to me from watching their antics at the time.
And somewhere along the line, Imoen came. It was much quieter than our arrival, but it didn't stay that way for long. She was a ray of sunshine in that gloomy place, and you made it clear that we were to be sister and brother. I think I wanted it that way, our family.
It was a glorious way to grow up.
But then it changed.
Overnight, it seemed that you had seen the depths of hell and portents of judgement to come. When you sent me out in haste to collect my things for a journey, I saw the wrinkles that gathered on your face. Worry lines, that's what you called them when I was younger.
Things were in chaos around the keep; assassins striking out from the shadows. I'm afraid that I caused a lot of trouble that day, even though I didn't mean to do so. Everyone knew that we were leaving, and I think that some were glad to see us go, even though they were afraid for you. Imoen told me about the letter before I got back to you, and we kind of said goodbye. It was hard, the family was going to be broken up.
But you smiled with relief when I showed up at the front of the library. "My child." Those were the words that you used. They made me so happy inside, because I belonged to a family. I had a father, even though my mother died when I was still an infant. Those words were what I clung to fervently when we passed through the outer gates, into the hostile night beyond.
They were the words that I carried with me until the morning light broke.
Father.
I think about you now. Saverok killed you that night, it's true, but I think that in some fashion you managed to watch out for me even then. I don't have a rationale for this; it's just a feeling in my heart. But I think that you couldn't leave me alone, couldn't leave for your eternal rest, until you'd made sure that I'd be all right.
You know, Imoen found me the next morning. I guess our family just couldn't be apart at your funeral. I know it wasn't much, but I hope that it was enough honor. We didn't really have much to work with at the time. And ever since then we've pretty much been on the run. Maybe someday we'll have the time to come back and make a proper headstone. I'm sure that someday we will.
Jaheira's calling me, so I'll have to go now. It's time to hit the road again and even Khalid jumps when she says 'jump'. But I guess that you already knew that. After all, they were your friends.
Goodbye Father.
Your child,
AN: This is just something that came to me really quickly as I played BG2 last night. It's set more in the time between BG and BG2, but before Jon-boy comes to make life miserable. Review if you like, and if you don't, then don't.
Hopefully it didn't bore you out of your mind, since it's merely contemplations and no action. Also, the signature is left blank for a reason - too many people play BG, and there is no one name for the main character.