Milkdrinker! A milkdrinker!? I hope the fool knows he could have bit back on his words. I was doing nothing! We could've passed each other in silence. Ignorant! He knows nothing of me. "Go back home to your mother?" Tch. I'm sure he wasn't expecting a warhammer to his skull, right mother?
Long months ahead of us, longer weeks behind us. Dare I say it feels like years since I've been called to climb the mountain? Days prolonged yet so quick, wandering lost yet destination clear... Am I making sense to you, mother? I can barely even hear. It's, hm, my sleepless mind, I suppose. No rest in the Reach; little rest in Whiterun. Even when Lydia or Eola would settle in I'd be up watching, patrolling... They told me it'd be safe but I know better.
What came from the path to Ivarstead? The ignorant nord, a brush with death, helping the Jarl with local troubles as is a responsibility as Thane. And Lydia returned to Whiterun to rest. It's all blurred really! It's like all of a sudden I'm here! I feel like a flower drifting in the wind, so weightless and carefree. It's so much better to be a flower in the wind, than to be wind in the Void. Oh, I wish you could be a flower again, mother. I wish you could drift through this beautiful land of orange and green and white with me.
But I'll tell you of the journey up to High Hrothgar, alright? It should be a harsh, but livening sight up there. I'll be safe, I promise!
There'd be only wolves up the path to High Hrothgar, he said. Just wolves. That's the only thing he'd encountered. Just wolves.
Just wolves! Just! Wolves! WOLVES!
Wolves.
Wolves.
Wolves.
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLVVES!
W-o-l-v-e-s... Is it pronounced with "ulf" or "olv?" Why isn't it simply spelled "Wolfs"? Or should "Wolf" be called "Wolve" or "Wolv." And should "Leaf" be called "Leav" or "Leave" or should "Leaves" be called "Leafs."
Wait.
"Leave" is the same spelling as "Leave," and "Leaves" is one letter away from "Leave." What if the "Leaves" meant "Leave?" Of course the leaves can't speak but what if they tried to communicate that through their motions? And leave... What, perhaps? Leave this mountain? Leave this journey? Leave myself? Leave this world and all that plagues it?
I want to leave. Leave everything. I'll leave this non-wolf! The troll! We can go around it somehow and leave it behind without it knowing we were even here! Precisely!
Answers, much needed answers - yet still more questions and ponderings! All I've been doing on this mountain is think think think, think think think! Eola is growing restless under these conditions and truthfully so am I. But I needed our answers. So we stayed. We stayed and we pondered and we abided by their ways until the Greybeard gave us answers no more!
So many answers did he refuse me. It's no help that only one of them can actually speak, although... He says I must be connected to the dragons' return, and that my Dragonborn ability must be some gift from the gods... But there is more. I'm sure of it. He keeps secrets from me! He speaks of them as possibilities, questions, not answers. So what if he knew exactly who we were? After some time with him, I got the old man alone. I told him of my place in the Third Era, my death and resurrection. And he knew. Ohh, he certainly knew. I could see it in his eyes. But he gave me yet more possibility, not conclusion.
He wants me to wait; he says I'd have my answers later on. That it'd be made clear once I've honed my Voice... He fears me, mother. Fears I'd grow drunk with power if I simply knew!
Is it so wrong to know why I'm here again? Or how? I've been pushing it to the back of my mind, saying it doesn't matter, but in truth it's kept me awake through all those sleepless nights. Wouldn't it haunt anyone? If I were brought back to confront this dragon threat, then why me?! Why not another Dragonborn? Uriel - Martin - so many others but I was chosen. Me, a murderer, a traitor... A pitiful waste! Why not you, mother? You deserved life more than me!
...Or was it father who had this dragon blood?
...Can't you just answer me? I miss what we used to have. Ever since this Dragonborn nonsense, we've been torn apart, farther than ever. You barely speak to me anymore. I just want to talk to you. Why do you think I've been writing to you more frequently. Why have we let this all distance us? I didn't ask for this to happen, and the least you could do is give me reassurance. I'm so sick of uncertainty, having to wait, we've waited so long, in this life and the previous, it's all we've done!
At least I have Eola with me. At least she speaks to me, comforts me. At least I don't expect answers from her.
A/N: One of the things I've been worried about with this story is how readers are going to receive Mathieu's attitude in certain entries. I think he may seem overly fractious or melodramatic at some points to some people (See #5, #11 or right here with #16) and I hope that doesn't turn away anyone, as there is logic behind his reactions, whether subtle or not. (If they weren't already turned away at the first chapter hahahaha) Would be a little boring to have no strong emotion behind some situations even if a little exaggerated, I reason, but let me know what you possibly think. :)
As always , hope you enjoyed! I know last chapter was quite short so hopefully even this last entry in itself will suffice in length.
