The Journal of Keledrial Nightstar

by Azurielle

Elven wizard and elven berserker, Keledrial's life has gone through one change after the next. How will he handle it all?

26. Chapter 24

Here is the nest part of the story.  It is most definitely wearing down now…in part because, while Keledrial is the sort of character who could continue writing, getting into one misadventure after another, I am getting tired of writing about him.  This most recent entry may seemed a bit strained at parts, mostly due to the fact that I am having trouble writing at the moment, but it can always be put down to Keledrial's constant state of confusion and stress.  Anyhow, I hope you enjoy, and warn that there will probably be only one more chapter after this one, at which point we will say farewell to Keledrial, that I might be able to finally finish some of the other stories I have in my mind and have been working on. Please continue to review, and give me feedback as it is the only way writers can feel justified in wasting their time, and learn what they are doing wrong with their writing.  As always, thank you to all of you who have reviewed and especially those who continue to review.  You, alone, have made this story reach as far as it has.  Thank you.                 Azurielle

Days passed without my knowing. Voices came and went, sounds without words.  And finally I began to awaken once more.  I opened my eyes to darkness.  But after a few moments my vision adjusted and I realized that it was night, faint light coming from the door of the house I was in.  I lay on a bed, straw-filled and covered with woolen blankets.  There was warmth against my chest, and it took me no time to realize that it was my wife pressed against me.  My back throbbed intensely, the sensation spreading from just below my shoulder blade, down to nearly my waist.  And within the throb was a tingling sensation…and a stretching that was reminiscent of healing magic still at work.  I took a breath…and in despair I soon realized how very hard it was to do.  I could not fill my lungs, and attempting to do so caused tiny spears of pains to lance throughout the right side of my chest.  A dull acceptance began to sink in.  I was, once more, weak.  And with all my memories of Ruathym, and of being strong when Airk was a part of me still my own, it seemed to hurt that much more.  For now I remembered what it was to be able to move freely, without fear of losing my breath…I was no longer a child who knew of nothing else but.  And at that moment, I almost wished that the gods had taken all of Airk's memories along with his presence for then, at least, I wouldn't have to recall all of the things I would no longer be able to do.

I forced myself to sit up, although the effort to do so had me gasping as the pain intensified.  This was like no wound I had ever suffered previously.  Looking about the house and room I was in, I recognized it to be my old home…Brander and Ingrid's home.  The bed I lay on was theirs…a pallet next to the fireplace that was now being used by Tobias had once belonged to me…to Airk.  But other than that, there was nothing left of them here.  All of their things were gone, even that which I had left behind.  Buildings materials being so rare to come by, though, I was certain that someone else had been making use of this place.

Peering about the room I counted bodies and came up three short.  Neither Lita, Bran, nor Kelly were in the room.  Everyone else was, and they all slept.  Liralyn lay up against Kalanas, the dark elf sleep, as drow do not use the reverie…Liralyn's eyes open, but glazed as she walked the path of her memories to rest.  Tobias, also in reverie sat seated against the far wall, Celedor only a few feet from him.  Ranon was curled up on the floor snoring fit to wake the dead. I dared to look down at Rosealliele, the one person for which I had chosen to become weak once more.  She was still; her mind in reverie.  Her eyes were closed, for she had taken to resting as I rested.  The dress she wore was far too big for her…and it seemed strange to see her wearing the woolen and homespun of a Ruathen girl, rather than the linens and silks she is accustomed to wearing. 

Looking at her I detected an odd bulge on one of her shoulders, and so I pushed back the part of her dress there.  Bandages…with the faintest hint of pink staining the top layer.  She had been wounded.  And I thought of Airk's mind during the battle, remembered having heard Rosealliele's voice.  He had done this to her, was my first thought. But that was closely followed by a second and more truthful realization.  I had done it to her.  I had brought her here, and if I had only fought a little harder against Airk she might not have been hurt.  Remembering the beam, and Airk's intention to kill Rose, I felt sick knowing that she might have died.  I never should have let her come.

I pushed back Rose's dress with a shaking hand when a sudden murmuring, and the softest sigh drew my attention to a lump under the covers just past my wife.  Drawing back the blanket I saw Sera's face, peaceful in sleep.  My mind reeled suddenly, trying to figure out how Sera could possibly be here when I well knew that she was in Sundabar with the dwarves.  Yet, she seemed real enough, and felt real enough.  She snuggled closer to Rose with another sigh.

The room seemed to close in on me, and I had to get outside.  How I managed to get out of the bed and stumble out the door without waking anyone is certainly a matter of speculation.  Maybe I was quieter than I sounded to my own ears…maybe they were all resting too deeply…either way I silently thanked Corellon for the luck of it all.

The first thing I noticed besides the pain and dizziness when I stood, was that my clothing no longer fit properly.  Though I knew the trousers and tunic to be my own, from the ship, the pants now hung loosely around my hips, where once they had fit perfectly.  The tunic was yards of material too big as well.  You could have fit two of my current form into the tunic.  It was strange to realize how different my body had become because of the unmaking the gods had put on me…because I didn't feel different.  Even though I can remember being a different size, I do not feel odd that I am no longer am.  Stranger still was that my height had not changed.  I was still just over six feet in height…very rare for any elf…especially seeing as I cannot remember great height being common on either side of my family.  Although , come to think of it, perhaps my Grandfather Cefwyn was a bit on the larger size…

When I had finished marveling over the changes in myself, I continued on, keeping to the shadows.  I wasn't quite ready to face anyone yet.  Not without knowing exactly what had happened…what other horrors I might have done.

It did not take me long to find out the answer.

I could see the light from the bonfires as soon as I left the house.  They burned brightly in the center of the village, and I immediately began to walk in that direction, my hand never far from the wall of a building, as I wasn't exactly stable on my feet.  My breath came in ragged gasps, and I held back tears of frustration, thinking about how unfair it was that I couldn't even walk a few hundred feet to the village center without trouble. 

I slowed when I heard voices, not quite to the center yet.  Peering around a corner I saw two familiar forms standing in the shadows.  Bran and Kelly were whispering to one another in the dark.  I stood there for a moment, unable to hear what was being said as the wind came up…but while I could not hear their nature of their whispering, their actions were quite clear to my eyes…especially when Bran leaned down and placed his mouth on Kelly's, his hand on her back.  At first I felt a momentary surge of anger at Bran, for it was quite clear that my "friend" was trying to seduce my half-elven daughter…and succeeding.  But it faded quickly as acceptance set it.  What was I supposed to do about it anyway?  She was old enough…at least I think she is…to make her choice about such matters…as was Bran.  Being that I had so little to do with her any anger on my part would be disregarded anyhow.  And further, even if I was to throw a fit about what was happening, in my current condition I would be no match for Bran in a fight. 

So I left it alone.  Let Bran and Kelly do whatever they wished.  It was not my problem.  If it had been Sera things might have been different, for she is truly my responsibility.  And I knew that whatever might happen in the future, I would work my hardest to find a way to overcome my frailty.  I was no longer a child to merely accept it as my lot in life.  I have a family to protect and barely being able to walk was not going to be condusive to doing so.

I went around the far side of the building to avoid any confrontation with them.  When I finally reached the site of the fires, I felt like lying back down again, but refused to do so.  I had to see. 

I saw the hole where the well was and caught a flash in my mind of a cavern and robed men.  I assumed I had been down there before, but I could not recall everything that had happened. 

There were many Ruathen gathered around the fires, their voices as one as they spoke the rites of funeral.  A huge pile of rocks lay at the ready, and two shallow pits had been dug.  In one lay the bodies of some twenty or so Ruathen, side by side, dressed in the armor and best clothing, weapons laid across their chest, their skin the pale white of the dead.  Many were old, but some were young as well.  All bore the wounds of battle.  Yet it was the one body that had been placed in a pit alone that caught my attention and held it.  The firelight turned his white hair orange, and the shadows of the night made the lines in his face seem deeper.  The face was so very different from the one that he had worn the day he stepped in on my side against the Ruathen boys who'd fought me…and yet despite the ravages of age, it was still eerily the same.

He was dressed in his finest, with wealth in weapons, gold, and armor placed in the pit with him.  A dog had been slain and lay beside him in the pit, and I knew that all of this was done so that he would not enter the halls of Tempus looking the part of a pauper.  Though his axe lay across his chest, I could see the line where his tunic sunk into a terrible wound.  And I remembered Airk's thoughts, how he had wanted Eirik to stop fighting…recalled a mighty swing of my sword, and the resistance at it cleaved flesh only to be stopped by bone.  And it was a good thing that my stomach was empty of anything save air, else I fear I would have shamed myself, and Eirik by being sick then and there.

I had killed him, I realized in that instant.  I killed my first friend…Eirik Ivarsson who had always stood by me, no matter the cost to himself…who had helped me survive Ruathym…who had allowed me to be elven when I needed to be, and pushed me to be human when it was not safe to be anything but.  Like a berserker that loses his focus, I had had lost control and killed someone I loved.  And if I had had the breath to do so I would have roared my grief for all to hear.

But I did not.  I did not want to bring attention to myself, so I stood silently in the shadows; still and silent.  I watched as the ritual went on, as the familiar words were spoken by the shamans, commending the souls of the heroes to the halls of Tempus, where they might be made strong to fight at Tempus' side in the afterlife. 

I stood there, leaning against the wall of a house, forcing myself to stay and see as the stones were piled on the bodies, creating a cairn that would be remembered for as long as it stood.  I knew that because they built it in the center of town that when the funeral was through, Rylonar would be abandoned by the living…a village for the dead.  A shaman might be left to tend the grave sites…perhaps even the site of the pool, but no more would villagers live in the houses…no more would they fish the shores.  Rylonar would fade.

 When it was over and the cairn was built, the Ruathen began to disperse. I moved through the shadows, away from them.  I did not want to be seen, to speak with anyone...to see the condemnation once more.

I did not go back to Brander and Ingrid's house either, but continued past it, to the cliffs, letting my feet take me where they would, though my side burned, my back felt sticky, and my breath felt like fire in my chest.  The wind picked up; strong enough to push me back, strong enough that I had to lean forward to keep my forward motion.  I did not stop until my feet were at the very edge of the cliff, below which I had washed up on, some 60 years ago. I looked down, watching the waves crash against the rocks below.  The tide was high, covering the narrow rocky beach.  A fall from this height would kill me, even with the water below. 

I hardly knew what to feel, then.  Too many emotions swirled and conflicted with one another.  Anger was foremost…anger at myself and the gods, mostly.  Grief was right behind it.  My knees gave out, and I crashed to the ground almost grateful for the respite.

The truth was, that at that moment, I didn't care about the reasons I had chosen to come back, I just wanted to die.  Death, I thought, was the perfect answer to what I was feeling.  In death I would not be in such agony…both physical and emotional.  I would no longer care about all the people I had lost…all those whom I would continue to lose.  The shame over hurting my friends and my wife would vanish. It would all vanish in the instant I hit the rocks. The gods had let me chose who I wanted to be, but they had never asked me if I wanted be.  In that moment, there on the cliffs it seemed to me it was a question they should have asked.

However, before I could contemplate suicide further I heard the sound of someone approaching…or rather I felt the presence, for she never made a noise until she spoke.

"You know," she began casually, but I could detect a note of concern that she wasn't quite able to hide.  "If Ranon and Celedor knew that you were up and out here of all places, you'd find yourself ties to the bed, after they'd thrown fits to make one Sera's tantrums look like a summer breeze."

"I don't care," I managed…my voice sounded different to my ears.

"No, I don't imagine that you do," Lita sighed as she walked to within a few feet of me.  "You've always been stubborn like that once you get an idea in your head." I glanced at her once, then looked back out at the ocean.  She seemed unnaturally pale, and there were fading wounds visible on most of her exposed skin.  She looked tired…and she look old.  And when I looked at her, and recalled how Eirik looked…so old even though they were less than half my age, I thought of Brander and Ingrid.   I had watched them go from hale and blond, to withered and gray.  I was watching it happen with Lita, had seen it with Eirik…someday I would have to watch Bran and Alliana, and even Kelly suffer the same fate.  And all while I stayed young, never changing. 

This, I thought, was why Everall would never work despite its lofty ideals…this was why the races would never truly get along for any time one of the elder races dared a friendship while a human of halfling, or anyone but themselves…they were burned in the end at the loss.

I couldn't help it…I started to cry.  It was not the same hysterical sort of grief that I had felt when I lost Sera…when I thought that my parents had abandoned me.  It was silent and hopeless, for no amount of anger or battle or apologies could ever change the fact that I could not fight death…nor did I want to face in others, even though I wanted it for myself.  It made me selfish in that I might be afflicting upon those I love the same sort of thing I was feeling, however.

I vow that Lita must have some physic talent for she seemed to follow the path of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry about Eirik.  And I know what you're thinking…"

"What am I thinking, Lita?" I asked softly. 

"That you can't handle this…that you're going to have to watch as people around you grow old and die.  But taking yourself out of the equation won't help anything."  As I said, I don't know how it was she knew what I thought…until I asked her later, when she told me I had been mumbling to myself the whole time since she had walked up.

"Then what will help?" I wanted to know.  Always I wanted to know the answers to questions…even the questions I never asked to anyone but myself.  She was quiet for a moment, thinking I suppose, and I was surprised that, for once she did not have a response ready for me.  When she did reply, it was not with her usual sarcasm, or flippancy.  She was dead serious.

"I can't say for certain what, if anything will help.  The only one who can figure that out is you.  But I can say this…it is our fate to burn brightly and make great changes.   It is yours to remember us, even when the time comes that no else does."

"But what is the point of living when you have to watch the people you care about die?" I demanded.

"What's the point of living if you don't live?" she countered.

"What kind of life can I have when I can't even walk a few hundred yards without having to sit down to catch my breath?" Was my bitter reply.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lita shake her head.

"Has it occurred to you that you were wounded nearly to the point of death and that it might actually take you time to recover?" The sarcasm was back…almost comforting in its familiarity.

"You don't understand…it was like this when I was child…and with the magic gone, I'm back to the way I was supposed to be before I came to Ruathym," I protested.

"And do you know for certain that sick is the way you were supposed to be?"

"But every one always said…"

"And when have you ever done what other people said?" Lita interrupted, dryly.  I thought about it for a moment, considered the possibilities.  It was possible that the problem was merely my wound.  And I do have a tendency to jump to a conclusion before all the facts have been collected…

"How can I be certain?"  She shrugged.

"You can't…but is life so cheap to you that you'd waste yours on a chance?"  For a minute I didn't say anything, but I felt calmer, and her words have imparted a degree of hope into what had been hopeless only moments earlier.

"Why is it that when I have a thing set in my mind you manage to say something that makes me change the way I think?" I wanted to know.  Lita shrugged.

"I'm a woman of few words…lots of opinions, but few words.  You'd do well to listen better to those few, though."   I think I might have smiled, even as the tears I had cried were dried by the wind coming off the waves.  I looked over to her, meeting her eyes for the first time. 

"Airk loved you," I confessed.  She nodded.

"I know," was all she ever said.  We sat there a while longer, not saying anything, but just when the silence seemed to stretch on too long, Lita got up.

" By Mask, it's cold out here!" she exclaimed, running her arms.  "If this is summer, I'd hate to see winter."

"You live in Silverymoon," I pointed out.  "It's further north."

"And I'd never be there either, if it weren't for Alliana. Oh but for Calimport…someplace warm and sunny…" she sighed.

"Well, get up," she ordered.  "Maybe if luck is with us we can sneak you back into the house before anyone realizes you're gone.  Bran and Kelly ought to be sexually intertwined for a while longer…"

"I didn't want to know that," I interrupted.

"Don't be a prude…you're an elf…masters of nudity," she continued as though I hadn't said anything.  I had to laugh at her statement, though…despite the daggers it sent through my chest.  It was true, for while humans are more open about their emotions, they are careful to hide their flesh from casual view.  With elves, it is our emotions that are hidden, and our bodies we that we do not care if other see.

       So I got up, although I was quite annoyed that I needed her arm to manage it. 

       "Gods you're thin," she muttered as she helped me.  "I should only be so lucky."  It was true, I realized, a bit startled as I glanced down at my wrists and arms.  I was thinner…a great deal of my bulk was gone.  I wondered if I even had the strength any longer to lift my weapons.

       We made it back to the house, although getter there seemed to take a great deal of time.  I'm not certain how I managed to get back into the bed without waking anyone, but I did, and weary and wounded as I was, reverie was quick in coming, and I did awake again until the next morning.

       When I "woke" the next morning I almost felt crowded by the amount of attention I suddenly got.  Neither Sera nor Rosealliele would leave my side for any prompting.  Both of them were alternately crying, and smiling.  Sera kept going on and on about how she had gotten shot in the tail during the big fight, but adding that she was better now. When I asked her how she had gotten here she immediately started apologizing and I got to hear how she had hidden away in my coat pocket and bribed Sanhandrian into silence with a pile of walnuts.  I would be having a little "chat" with my familiar later.

Rose didn't say much, but she made certain she was never more than a foot away from me, even when Celedor and Ranon demanded to examine me.  They practically clucked with concern when they looked at my back, saying that the wound must have reopened sometime in the night.  They bandaged it up, apologizing for not be able to use any more magical healing.  I was glad that a blanket was covering my lower body to they would not be able to see that dried grass still clinging to my feet and figure out the reason why the wound had reopened so "mysteriously."

  Everyone just had to speak with me, and all of them kept asking question after question in these solicitous, quiet tones, as though they thought to speak louder might upset me.  They wanted to know what happened, if I remembered anything, asking questions about things that had happened just before we had come to Ruathym.  I guess they were trying to make certain I was still "me."  Finally I got fed it up with it all…especially being treated like an invalid…even though, at the moment, I practically was one.  I told them in no uncertain tones that I didn't remember anything about the time I was "Airk"…even though I did….just a little.  I added that "wounded" did not mean "dead" or "fragile," so they if they wanted to talk to me they should do it in a tone I didn't have to strain to hear.  I was about to add a "…and furthermore…" when they startled me by laughing….all of them.  There was a sense of relief in that laughter, however, and I got the feeling they were relieved by the return of my temper. 

It was several days before I was "allowed" to get up.  My wound was healing well…or so I was told, for it certainly didn't feel any better to me. I had, by that point, heard the whole story about what had happened…from the tale of the Host Tower wizards, to Lita's great battle plan, from the demon Marilith to my wife's deadly spell.  Needless to say I was amazed that their plan had gone so well, but then again they did have their minds set to it…and when that happens worst plans than that one…like the one I came with up with to find Handrax for example, can work.

Tobias had searched through all of the wizards' things and finally located the spellbook from whence the beam that had hit me came from.  The spell, as everyone had suspected, was unique to the Host Tower mages…something they'd developed and had not let out into the mainstream wizarding societies.  It had some stupid name…Dvaron's Black Death or something like that.  It had been developed with the sole purpose to kill, and kill painfully.  The beam would enter the flesh of a living creature as a hole only the size of a copper piece.  As soon as it interacted with skin however, the beam would begin to diverge, lacerating and destroying all that it came in contact with until it finally erupted from an exit point with explosive force, the beam now magnified in size a hundred-fold. 

Now ideally, or so the wizard had noted in his book, the spell was meant to be cast towards the midline of the body to be assured that both the heart and the spine of the target would be destroyed, hence preventing any healing measures, for the beam killed in an instant.  Seeing as the beam had been at Rose, and not me, it was only sheer luck that the beam entered so far to my right side that only my lung, some ribs and a great deal of flesh was destroyed instead, or so Celedor told me. And while I suppose that I am lucky in that I did not die, I certainly don't feel so lucky, seeing as the regeneration spell that Celedor had cast on me in an attempt to make my ribs and lung grow back is making my wound hurt so much worse than before that its all I can do to talk at times.  

Though I was allowed to get up, when the pain wasn't too bad, by my "prison guards"…ie Ranon and Celedor, the extent of it was letting me walk no further than the cairn, at a slow pace with some one at my side at all times.  I got angry when I starting wheezing painfully, even after so short a trip, snapping at Tobias who was the closet target for my ire.  Celedor, who'd not been more than a few feet behind us spoke up at my temper, reminding me in his deceptively mild tone that it would be a long while before my damaged lung fully regenerated and that patience and not anger was the only thing that was going to help.  I told him, rather rudely, what I thought of patience and added that any time he would like to trade places with me, he was welcome to do so.  The priest did not offer any more advice, I wound up feeling guilty of having shouted.  After all he had saved my life, and was only trying to help.  Tobias, on the other hand, just seemed to shrug my mood off like water and continued jabbering on about his "grand" part in the battle as though he'd never been interrupted.  Damned bards.         

I have been told I'm hero…by the Ruathen, no less.  Ian, Eirik's eldest son told me this.  Save for having blond hair instead of black, the boy…man, rather, looks so very much like his father it is almost painful to see him, for it is like having Eirik's eyes looking back at me.    It was certainly not something I had expected to hear…nor did I feel I deserved to be called such.  It was only the magic of the Fury of Battle that had allowed me to destroy the pool, anyhow.  But Ian insisted it was so, and that if there was anything he could do for me that I was to name it.  At first I was going to refuse anything, but then I remembered something I did want that Ian could provide: a way into the Green Room.

When I asked if it could be done, Ian immediately agreed, stating that as First Axe he would see it done as soon as I was hale enough to travel to Ruathym city to go to the Green Room.  He added that messages had already been sent to Ruathym city informing the other First Axes of the island what had happened in Rylonnar.  Ian was certain that there would be no problem, so at least I will be able to fulfill my word to Elaith…provided, of course, the book is actually there.

With the magic gone, and no chance of spells going awry, Liralyn and Kalanas departed back to Everall, taking Sera with them.  She protested mightily about going, adding that all the trouble was over, and she had helped, so why couldn't she stay?  I reminded her that she had disobeyed me after promising to stay with Rina and her parents, and put herself in danger by coming and that she was not to so much as set foot off school grounds until I returned, as punishment.  And though I sent her home as a form of discipline over her stowing away, I was able to relax fractionally better once she was gone, and out of harm's way.

We're traveling to Ruathym city on the morning.  I'm fed up with "resting," and waiting to heal nonsense.  Once I finish searching the Green Room, I damn well mean to go home and rest when I can at least have five minutes alone with my wife, and take a walk without having someone hovering over me!  It's been well over two ten-days since the battle and I am tired of Ruathym.  My home here is long gone, along with the people who'd made this place bearable, and our departure is long overdue.  Besides, I'm worried about Rosealliele.  She seems so tired, and I fear what affect all this stress is having on her.  After all, she has never been in a situation anything like this before, having grown up safe and protected in Evermeet.  She has had to kill people for the first time in her life, and I can say that I am well aware of how traumatic that can be.  I think that she'll be better if I can just get her back to the school, among her things and her books, where she can relax again.  And there are certainly more than enough clerics there to tend my wounds, although I am getting mightily tired of being "tended" to. 

Yes.  I've decided it.  Tomorrow, Ruathym City.  And once done there, we go back to the mainland, then home, damn it all!   

We arrived at Ruathym City, after several days of agonizing travel, without incident…not that I thought that there would be a problem considering Ian and a number of his warriors had come with us.  They had wanted me to go with them to speak with the First Axe of Ruathym, no longer Aumark Lithyl, who was long dead, but a new Ruathen, about what had happened.  Though they had asked, I knew it was more of a command, for technically, as I was still Airk Windereiver to them, I was still under Ian's jurisdiction as First axe of the southern villages. 

We made our way to the center of Ruathym city.  The town had not changed much in the time I have been gone except that more wooden houses ring out from the center meeting area, and more ships fill the harbor.

Whispers and outright stares exploded as we passed.  I imagine that the Ruathen had never even imagined so many alfar existed, let alone that they would see us.  I don't know how many of them, if any, recognized me for I taken great pains when I had lived to try not to stand out.

When we entered the meeting area, hunting horns were sounded, calling the people of Ruathym city to the Thing…the Ruathen version of a court, so to speak.  I had never been to one before, for my father Brander had never a reason to go to one either.  They are usually only held that the First Axe and those gathered would decide the fates of criminals, end arguments, and so forth.  Very democratic, as the old elven councils were rumored to have been.  The problem with that, however, and the reason we elves had eventually found a King by way of the Moonblade trials, was that too many voices could obscure justice if they could not agree on a decision.

The Ruathen began to gather, seating themselves according to clan and district.  We took our place with Ian, among other from the southern villages and clans, and waited.

A Ruathen man walked into the clearing.  Of middling age, he stood very tall, an axe heavy across his back.  This, then, would be the new First Axe of Ruathym.  He announced himself as Hrolf Ulfsson, a cousin to the great Aumark Lithyl.  Now seeing as First Axe of Ruathym is not hereditary but only a title that can be taken by skill, I had to assume that Hrolf was at least as strong a man as his cousin had been.

Ian rose and told the tale of what had happened in the south.  Cries and shouts of anger echoed through the crowd at the wizard's perfidy.  When they came to our part in the tale, it was no surprise that all eyes immediately became riveted on the "alfar," Bran, Kelly, Lita, and Ranon. The men of the party were called one by one to detail their part in the battle that occurred.  Women are not allowed to speak in the Things, but must have a man to represent them….not very fair in my opinion, but it is the way things are done in Ruathym.

I listened as Bran, Tobias, Celedor, and Ranon explained the things they saw and did.  And when it came to my turn I managed to rise without too much difficulty.  Ian introduced me as Airk Windreiver, adopted son of Brander and Ingrid Windreiver of Rylonar.  I did not bother to correct him, for the name no longer holds any dread or even concern for me.  It is only a memory.

  I kept my words short and to the point.  I told them that because I, too, was under the magic I remembered very little of what had happened to me.  I did reveal that when I had driven the Fury of Battle into the water that I heard words being spoken to me, and that I felt that Tempus had guided my hands.  It was the truth and yet not quite the truth.  I still wasn't yet ready to speak of the vision of the gods that I had had, but felt that the Ruathen might rest easier believing that their god's hand had guided my own in defeating the magic.

When all was said and done, Hrolf extended us and invitation to stay on Ruathym as long as we so chose for our bravery was that of any Ruathen in what we had done.  I thanked him, but stated that we had to return to our homes.  When he asked if there was aught that he could do for us, Ian replied that I sought entrance to the Green Room.  It was granted without a second's hesitation.  Officially, after the testimony of the shamans of Tempus who'd been to Rylonar, the danger in the southern villages was declared met with and defeated.  Then the Thing was over and the Ruathen began to disperse at the command of the First Axe, although there were many glances over the shoulders as they tried to get one last look at us. 

We were taken straight to the Green Room as soon as we left the Thing, at my insistence.  It proved to be a long wooden building not far from the center of town.  It amazed me for it was so plain, and I must have walked by it a thousand times when I was younger and never knew that it was the Green Room I had searched for. 

Inside was a jumble of books, scrolls and parchment, stacked haphazardly on every surface to be found, in no sense of order. I groaned.  It would take all day to find anything in the mess. Not that it wasn't unexpected.  After all the Ruathen are far from scholars, and most of the books here had obviously only been taken due to a gold leaf on the edges, a gem or stone set into the bindings, and other valuables that adorned the covers.

Some one located a chair for me and Celedor ordered me to sit down.  Though I gave him a foul look at the demand, I conceded without an argument.  After the traveling and speaking at the Thing I was feeling tired…damn my wounds.  I so hate being this weak!  Without any prompting, I got to work.  The others asked me what I was looking for, but they were all told to mind their own business.  I didn't think Elaith wanted his business broadcasted to the others, anyhow. 

Bran promptly announced that while he may be educated, poring over books not knowing what to look for was not his idea of how to spend a sunny summer afternoon.  He stated that he meant to go have a look around Ruathym city.  The moment that he moved to the door Kelly added that such sounded like a good idea and she darted after him.  Too obvious, I thought to myself.  They might spend the afternoon exploring, but I do not think that Ruathym city will be the what of that "exploration."   Lita stated that she was hungry and departed to see what could be done about getting some food. 

That left me with Tobias, Ranon, Celedor, and Rose, all waiting around for something to do. 

"If you would just give us a hint, we could help you," Rose told me, gently.

"I don't need any help," I replied.  However, at that moment, I reached up to pull down some books from one of the shelves and felt something tear in the skin on my back.  Celedor cursed, as I stifled a gasp. 

After my back had been restitched and bandaged, Celedor informed, in no uncertain terms,

 "You are to stay seated and we will bring the books for you, and that if you don't stop being so damnably stubborn your wounds will never heal!"
       Since they were so bound and determined I told them that I was looking for books on ancient history and spellbooks and if they found any that I wished to see them.  It kept them happy, having something to do, and it kept them out of my way as I searched all the books I could get to without getting up.

Night began to fall before we had found anything.  Lita had been back with Ruathen and trays of food at one point, but had gone again.  Just as someone made a suggestion that we should give up for the night, I found what I was looking for. 

The book still retained traces of the ornate, but most of the gems and gold had been stripped from the cover.  When I opened the cover the pages crackled with age, and particles of dust sifted out.  Faint writings were etched on the page, and though I could not read it, I was able to recognize the writing as that of ancient Netheril.  A spellbook holds magic, and this one was no difference for the strength of its power caused my hands to tingle.  It had to be the book Elaith was looking for…nothing else in the Green Room had even come close. 

I leafed through it, looking for some hint of what it might contain, but without knowledge of the language, the spells were no good to me.  I was careful to conceal the fact that I had found the book I was looking for.  At least I would be able to somewhat repay Elaith for all that he done for me!  I set the book aside, in a small stack of elven and human histories that they had uncovered for me, and searched through a few more books.  I took two more books, one very old and made of thin pieces of granite that were bound like pages, and another, small with the leather cover engraved with a symbol that looked like a horn of plenty. 

"I found what I wanted," I informed the others casually, holding up the two books.  I was given odd looks as they saw the two books.

"Dwarven history and halfling religion?" Tobias asked incredulously. 

"Are you saying I can't read about things other than elven history?" I growled.  Tobias shook his head quickly.

"No, of course not…it's just...well…oh never mind."  No one else had any further comments as I set the two books down on top of the small pile I was taking with me.  After all, I had been given leave by Hrolf Ulfsson to take whatever I wished from the Green Room. 

We were lent rooms to stay in that night by the townsfolk.  When morning came, arrangements were made with Ian to have the Radiant Dolphin and its owner, Kerrick brought back to Waterdeep…safely.  And once farewells and thanks yous had been exchanged we teleported back to Waterdeep.

We did not stay in Waterdeep long.  Celedor departed for his temple shortly after we arrived, after stating that now that he had been on an adventure he was quite content to stay at the church and never leave Waterdeep again, thank you very much.  I couldn't say that I blamed him.  After all what had just gone on Ruathym was far more perilous than your usual "lets go hunt some orcs" kind of adventure.  Ranon thanked us for the fun, and told us to send him word if we decided on another adventure, adding that he got bored often.   Tobias took his leave as well, stating that he had places to go, things to accomplish, and a grand song of the adventure to compose.  He added that he would see us again soon…he was certain of it.

That left Kelly, Bran, and Lita.  Kelly told us that she had to be getting back to her job at the guard and such, but that it had certainly been interesting.  Unsurprisingly Bran decided that he would like to spend the rest of the summer in Waterdeep, for he had never seen such a grand city before.  I wonder how long it will be before he decided to admit that he is sleeping with my half-elven daughter, and realizes that I already know about it?

Lita wanted to go back to her house in Silverymoon, and added that either Rose or I would be teleporting her there as soon as possible.  Seeing as she had bee so very helpful, it was a demand that we couldn't refuse.  Rose volunteered to do the teleporting seeing as she didn't want me to strain myself, but she added that we would have to wait for tomorrow that she could rememorize the spell.

As evening fell, I informed Rose that I had a small errand to run.  However when I suggested that she could wait in our room until I returned, she flatly refused.

"There is no way I'm letting you leave my sight again," she informed me.

"I assure you, I'll be fine," I tried to soothe her with a claming tone.  She shook her head.

"No.  I'm going, or you're not."  I considered arguing but ultimately decided that it was worth the effort.  I would eventually tell her about the book I retrieved for Elaith anyhow.

So we headed down to Elaith's tavern.  I had wanted to walk there even though, considering the distance, it probably would not have been a good idea.  Before I could get more than a few feet however, Rose had hailed down a carriage and paid the driver the necessary coins for a ride to the Hidden Blade.

"We could have walked," I commented to her as we sat down.

"No, we couldn't have," she retorted.  Then, her expression softening, she continued.

"Keledrial, I know that you're anxious to get back to the way things were, but if you do not wait to heal before pushing yourself, you will never heal at all."

"I know," I confessed, slightly more relaxed now that I was finally alone with her. "It's only that I can't stand feeling this way.  It reminds me too much of when I was a child."

"It only seems that way. Once you're better I'm certain things will be fine again."

"I hope so," I sighed.

Riding in a carriage is rather unpleasant, despite popular belief.  The wheels going over cobblestones makes for an incredibly bumpy trip, and being enclosed makes me feel claustrophobic.

I was quite glad when we finally reached the tavern and could get out of the damnable thing. 

Elaith was not at the tavern when we got there, but his barkeep had a message sent to summon him when we arrived.  While waiting, Rose and I had a seat at a table.  The tavern was nearly empty at so early an hour in the day…no customers at all.  I would have ordered some wine for the both of us, but Rose said she only wished water to drink.  So instead I got her some water, and ordered some ale for myself.  After taking our orders, the bartender withdrew far enough away that rose and I had plenty of privacy.

During the hours we waited for Elaith to arrive I quietly explained to Rosealliele about the book I had found for Elaith in the Green Room, and about other things that I had not yet been able to tell her…like my vision of Tempus and Corellon.

She did not say much, only listened intently to my few memories of what had happened while I was under the effects of the pool of magic and the wizards.  When I tried to apologize for hurting her, she refused to accept it, saying that it wasn't me who attacked her, and that the wound thing was a small price to pay if it meant having me back.  She is such a wonderful woman.

When Elaith finally arrived, his cloak was wet and stained.  His hair was dripping as well, and I glanced out the window to realize that a storm had begun while Rose and I had been talking, and we hadn't even noticed.  Elaith turned the sign over in the door so that it read "closed."  After removing his wet cloak, he sat down at the table, across from us.

"My apologies for being so late.  I had business that could not be delayed, though," Elaith stated.  Then he seemed to focus on us a bit more intently.

" You seem different," he commented.  I nodded.

"It is a very long story.  I won't bother you with it however," I said. 

" It would be no bother.  I find I am somewhat interested as to the nature of your trip to Ruathym, and what outcome of said voyage that could have left you so…changed," he replied.  A story was a small price to pay, so I told him an abbreviated version of the tale of what had transpired on Ruathym.  He said nothing during the telling, only listened as intently as any bard would hope to have their audience listen.  When I was through, he finally spoke.

"That certainly was an interesting trip.  And I assume by your presence here that you have some report on the task I asked of you?"  I nodded, and slid the book across the table to him.  For a moment his eyes seemed to light up with anticipation, but it was gone so quickly I wondered if I hadn't imagined it.  He flipped through the pages.

"This is, indeed, the book I was seeking," Elaith declared.  "But whether the spell I was told of is in it is another question."  He looked up from the book and at me.

"You have my gratitude, Keledrial.  Consider any debt between us to be resolved."

"I hardly consider a book to be payment for the debt I owed you," I confessed.  "Still, if ever you should need my help again, consider asking me…as a friend."  He gave me the oddest look in that moment…indecipherable, I wasn't certain what he was thinking.  I knew, however, that despite everything I had been told about Elaith, he had never done me any harm and helped me greatly…and for that I considered him a friend.

"You choose odd friends, Lord Nightstar," he finally replied.  I shrugged.

"So I do.  But no one can say that my friends are not interesting."  Elaith gave a wry smile. 

"Very well then."  He rose.  "Though I have enjoyed the company…and the profits," he held up the book, "of this visit, I am afraid that my previous business needs further…attending to.  Sweet water and light laughter until we meet again," he gave the traditional elven leave-taking.  He bowed once to Rose, and left, taking only enough time to draw his wet cloak back on.

"He is right, you know.  You do choose strange friends," Rosealliele told me as we, too, rose to leave.

  "Actually, I don't choose them…they seem to choose me for reasons I have yet to fathom," I told her.

We went back to the inn after that, to rest.  Though I wished to do more than just lay beside her, anything more was out of the question.  That had been another thing that Celedor had been very explicit in explaining: no sex until my back was healed. Rose seemed content enough to merely snuggle beside me, but for me, it was torture knowing how long it had been since I had made love to her, and how long it would be before I could.  This damned wound had better heal quickly, that is all I have to say!

We dropped Lita off in Silverymoon with no trouble.  Alliana arrived within an hour of our arrival, and promptly began fussing over her mother, commenting on how pale Lita seemed.  Lita groused the whole time, repeating loudly that she was too old for such nonsense, but I thought I detected a gleam of amusement and pleasure in her eyes.  Sometimes I think that Lita is far less irritated over attention than she lets on.

We stayed in Silverymoon for the rest of the afternoon, having lunch with Lita and Alliana, but as evening was drawing closer, both Rose and I decided that it was time to go home.

We teleported into Hap just as the sun was beginning to set.  Waiting for us was none other than Mallorn.

""I just happened to be in town and thought you might like an escort," my quiet cousin told us as he walked up.

"I seriously doubt that any thing or any place you are or do falls under the "just happened" category," I replied.  He shrugged. 

"Nevertheless.   Come.  I believe that Sera is waiting for you."  I didn't doubt that she was. 

Back at Everall, things were pretty much the same, except that with it being summer, most of the students were gone, and the ones that had stayed were busy going on field excursions, and taking fun classes, and the like.  As soon as we arrived, Sharanne, the cleric of Chauntea and Lyly, the priestess of Yondalla were waiting for me, having been informed, no doubt of my injury by Liralyn.  After enduring their check up, I was told…yet again, that any sort of major physical activity would be unacceptable…for quite some time.  We shall see about that.

Sera was not waiting, as Mallorn had thought, but was found to be playing some game involving a ball, outside with Sunstar children.  She promptly bolted over when she saw Rose and I, but rather than her usual mannerism of hurling herself at me, she hugged me very gently, as though she was afraid she might break me.

"You look better, Daddy," she commented.  I nodded.  I didn't feel much better, but she didn't need to know that. 

"And I'm really sorry I didn't listen to you," she added.  I sighed.

"I know you were only trying to help, Sera, but I want you to promise me you will never do any thing like that again.  You could have been killed."

"You almost were killed," she pointed out.

"Sera…promise," I repeated.  She heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

"I promise."

"Good," I replied as she began to open her mouth.  I beat her to it, knowing what she was about to say. 

"However, you are still confined to the grounds."

"Why?!" she demanded.  I began to reply, but she spoke faster.

"Because you said so," she muttered in a pouting tone.   "But when can I not be confined?"

"When I've decided that you've learned your lesson."

"Oh fine!"  She huffed. She greeted Rose with a hug and kiss, then turned to go play with the Sunstars again, only to realize that most of them had crept up on us, expressions of their faces of curiosity.

"Later," I promised them.  "You can hear all about it later."  They smiled as one, and ran back to their game.  I shuddered, looking at all of them, trying to imagine having to deal with so many children.  I don't know how Liralyn does it.  I'm thankful that I only really have Sera to deal with, but then again one of her sometimes seems like three of any other child. Still, now that she's in school I have more time to my self, and sometimes I find it's quite nice.

After resting for the whole bloody afternoon…Rose's insistence, we went down to eat.  At dinner all of the Sunstar children were at the table, as well as 7 of the teachers who were still at the school for the summer.  They all had to hear what had happened, but fortunately Liralyn, being the bard that she is was only too happy to recount the whole thing for me.  I was given curious looks the whole time as they all seemed to be appraising my new appearance…which in truth, is only a little different from my old one, now that I have had occasion to see myself in a mirror.  I'm thinner.  That's all.

That night, when we were finally alone, Rose finally broke down.  She started crying and couldn't seem to stop, no matter what I said or did.  Finally, after several times repeating the question, "What's wrong?" she began to explain in sobbing tones. 

She told me all that had happened, saying how scared she had been, how horrified she was over killing the wizards, and yet how glad she had been when they were dead.  She told me that she had been trying to be strong for me, but just couldn't do it anymore.  I felt guilty, thinking that I had been so caught up in my own misery that I hadn't even noticed how bad my wife was feeling.  And then, just when I was thinking this would be an easy matter of telling her that everything would be all right, and that she was justified in killing, and that I knew how hard it had to have been, she dropped her little "secret."  She explained that she had decided to use the Wail of the Banshee spell when she realized why she had been so sick lately.  And her words hit me in the gut with the force of a fist.

"Keledrial, I think I'm going to have a baby."  I know that I was very still for along few moments.  I know I should have been immediately ecstatic and happy.  I knew that that was what she needed me to be, to reassure her.  But the moment she said that, all I could think was that I would never be able to escape now. 

When I say "escape," I mean in reference to a plan that had been forming in my mind.  It was one that I had been nursing for some time…since at least when I started teaching at Everall.  I had been hoping that once Sera was settled here, and Zelairwyn was capable of looking out for himself, that I would be able to resume my traveling.  Though I had agreed to this, and the life was appealing, I knew that it would not be able to satisfy me for too long.  I still wanted to see the world…much more than the small portion I knew of.  I still wanted adventure…maybe not quite the life-threatening variety I was used to…but just traveling and seeing new things was an adventure of sorts.  I had thought that with Sera getting a bit older now, that I would be able to at least take the summers off to do this. 

Even after marrying Rose there was no doubt that this was what I wanted. I figured even with my injury, after it was healed I would work on getting back to my original strength. I'd even hoped that Rose would want to come with me. 

But with those simple words…so unexpected, I saw my dream of eventual freedom slipping away.  I know I should have expected something like this…after all I know I can have children, and the sheer amount of times Rose and I had made love should have been a hint.  And even though I've not been around that many pregnant women, I should have realized that the real reason behind her being sick so often was more than just stress and worry.  But I hadn't noticed a damned thing.  And now, with a baby, there would be no hope of my traveling for at least another three or four decades.  Rose would not be willing to leave our baby behind, and there was no way I was going to take an infant traveling with me.

 Okay, so granted I had taken Sera with me, but she was a dragon, for Corellon's sake!  And further, she was far easier to care for than a real baby, seeing as she was able to talk and walk and eat solid food after only a few months' time.  A real elven infant would not be so easy.  It would be years before Rose and I would have any sort of life again. 

Still, though such thoughts were racing through my mind, and my heart filled with dread at the prospect of Rose having a child, I smiled, covering it all up.

"That's great," I told her, for I knew it was she wanted to hear. She did not return my smile, only sighed.

"What?"  I asked, thinking perhaps I had not sounded sincere enough.

"I just…I wish we could've had more time first.  I'm too young to have a baby."

"Apparently not.  Besides, Liralyn had Zelairwyn when she was younger than both of us," I pointed out. 

" That's different. And I don't know anything about children," Rose stated.  "I thought I would have more time to learn…with Sera and the rest of the children here."  She sighed again.  I wasn't certain what to say.

"You are happy about this, right?" she asked.

"Of course," I assured her once more.  After a bit, I managed to convince her that she should take reverie, that she needed the rest. She wanted to talk more, I'm certain, but I wasn't really in the mood for talking.

As soon as I was certain she was resting deeply, I got up and left our room.  A quick check on Sera revealed that she was asleep as well, so I continued downstairs.  I made it to the kitchen, and after managed to catch my breath I got some water and sat down.  I could really have used a real drink, but didn't think it was that great an idea, considering I didn't think I would be able to limit myself to just one drink.

I wanted to talk with someone…to ask them why I wasn't happy about something I should have been ecstatic about.  After all, elven children are few, and each one was important.  The baby will be my heir someday, thus I will have done my duty to my house by continuing the line. 

But all I could think was that I didn't want it.  The truth was, I admitted to myself, I hadn't even really wanted Sera…at least not as a daughter.  It had never occurred to me, at the time I found her, in the egg, that I would have to raise her.  Not in the sense that one raises a child, anyway.  A dragon was more of a thing to me, then.  And the only reason I had even taken her was because I hadn't wanted the rest of my party to have the egg, and I had stupidly imagined that once she had hatched, I would learn to ride her and become one of the dragon riders of Evermeet.  Stupid youth.  That what I had been, and it hadn't taken me but hours to realize that what I had in mind and the reality of things were two very different things. 

Sera was not a thing, but a unique being, and one that had been and still was very vulnerable.  I had raised her, true, and was her father…but that certainly had never been what I had intended. 

And Rose had claimed she was too young for this…yet, I haven't even made it too my 110th birthday.  When the day that I would finally, legally, be declared an adult comes, I will already have three children…and not a single one of them was I prepared to deal with.  And there was not a damned thing I could do about it.  Oh, I suppose I could leave…let Rose deal with the problem, as Rosaleen had had to…but I knew that was not truly an option.  I couldn't leave Rosealliele, any more than she could me. 

There was no hope for I, really.  I was stuck…and this time, it was my own doing…not my parents, or the gods, or any one else.  If I had even once considered taking precautions…and it wasn't like I didn't know how to, I would not be in this situation. 

I lay my head down on the table, weary.  I was too young for all of this.  This, I finally understood was the reason that the people allowed their children so much time to grow…so that we would be ready to accept responsibilities when they finally were given to us.  Yet I had been so determined that I was already grown, that I didn't need time…and now all I could think was that I hadn't had enough time…and it was too late to do anything about it.

Time is a funny thing.  Sometimes it can seem to fly by, and you look back and wonder how it could move so quickly.  And other times it crawls along, so that each hour seems a day, and each day, never-ending.  But the strangest thing about time is when it seems to do both.  And that is what it had been like for me, these past months.

The rest of the summer was hard.  It had been hot, and dry.  Lightning storms had caused fires, and the fires had wreaked havoc throughout the dalelands, burning crops and farms. For the entire month of Flamerule on, it seemed that the air was choked with ash, and the threat of fire, and possible evacuation loomed.  Many members of the staff left the school to help battle the fires.  Needless to say, I was forbidden from even thinking about going with them to help. 

With all my friends, and fellow teachers gone, and Zelairwyn in Evereska, I had little enough to do.  The most I was allowed, exercise-wise, was walking and light stretching, to try to keep the skin of my back from healing too tightly. 

Each day seemed to drag on indefinitely, with me frustrated over the lack of progress I was making, and so bored that I could have screamed.

And yet when it came to Rose, the summer was gone all too soon.  My wife alternately wavered between being ecstatic about her pregnancy and despondent over it.  One day she would be bright and smiling, talking about baby things and names and clothing and all sorts of things that I never even considered when Sera was a baby.  She delighted in having me feel the child moving, and seemed to so proud when her belly began to show the first hints of roundness.  Then, the very next day she might be upset and crying, saying that she was frightened of giving birth, that she would be a terrible mother, than she knew nothing of children…and so on.

I never knew what to expect from Rose form one minute to the next…only that I should not count on anything.  And one would think that this would make time seem to pass slower still, but as each day passed, as the summer months became fall and the students returned, I watched her change.  Each day she that I put my hand her to her stomach, I felt the movements grow a little stronger.  Each day that I realized that her belly had gotten a little bigger brought with it the realization that I had little time left until the last of my freedom was gone…and I couldn't even enjoy it, for I was so limited in what I could do.

Needless to say that smithing class was out.  My back had still yet to heal fully, and my strength is nothing of what it was.  It would be some time, I have been told, before I would be able to do any such activities again…if ever.

So it had been ancient history for me…and I vow, I am getting so sick of it that I may never touch another history book again! 

Bran returned, via teleport looking far too satisfied for his own good.  For the first few weeks back he would barely look me in the eye, and hardly spoke a word to me…strange consider how loud he normally is.  Tully, Magnar, and Rogan noted the tension, and at first I think they assumed that something had happened between Bran and I, while on Ruathym that we weren't speaking.  They tried to keep up the conversation as best they could, but with me no longer smithing, and quite miserable, and Bran not talking, I can't imagine that they fou8nd it an easy chore. 

Finally, I got tired of it all, seeing as conversing is still the one the thing I can do with few problems, and even that was being taken away by Bran's behavior.  At lunch, one afternoon, about a month after all this had been going on, I spoke up.

"So, Bran," I began casually.  "How is Kelly?" I asked him.  Bran momentarily choked on his drink, coughing loudly for a few moments.

"She's um…fine," the normally more talkative warrior informed in monosyllables.

"Really.  And did the two of you enjoy sight-seeing in Waterdeep?' I prodded.  Bran nodded, still not meeting my eyes.  I could feel the eyes of our usual lunch crowd watch our every word.

"Yeah.  Waterdeep's really big.  Bigger than Silverymoon," he commented, trying to change the subject.  I nodded.

"It is."  Then, leaning on my arm, I looked directly at him, and somehow managed to keep my expression completely calm as I asked,

"And how did you enjoy having sex with Kelly?"   Bran reacted immediately, turning red to the roots of his blond hair, as he sputtered.

"You're her father! You shouldn't ask something like that!"  I knew the jaws of the others were hanging down somewhere around the knees, but paid them no heed.  I was somewhat amused by Bran's discomfort, which was a welcome change from the usual despair and misery.

       "Oh come, now, Bran!  You're usually so much more vocal about such things," I grinned.  "How is Kelly in bed?"   I didn't really want to know the answer, but the expression on his face was priceless. I am not certain if he could have turned any more red than he was, seeing as he already resembled the exact shade of a ripe tomato.  Finally, I could no longer contain myself as I watched him try to come up with a reply.  I started to laugh.

       "Just what is so funny?" Bran demanded, grateful to have something else to consider I suppose.

       "You are!"  I gasped.  "You've been trying so hard to keep this a secret, but I've know you were sleeping with her since Ruathym!"

       "And you're not angry?" Bran seemed confused.

       "Why should I be?  I may have sired her, but her father is the human her mother married, not me.  Besides, as she was quick to point out, she's a grown woman, and has every right to do as she wishes.  Me getting angry would be like my father being mad at me for sleeping with Rose!"

       Once Bran seemed to finally get the clue that I wasn't going to challenge him to a battle over Kelly's honor, or some such nonsense, he started to relax…to act more like himself again.  He still didn't volunteer any details about his sexual relationship with my half-elven daughter…for which I was grateful, but he was finally able to look at me, and conversed freely about the things he saw in Waterdeep and so on.  He did reveal that he had asked Kelly to consider moving closer to the dalelands, that he might be able to see her more regularly.  She had only replied that she would think about it, adding that there many things to be considered. Bran, however, seemed fairly certain that he had made such an impression with her that she would be out here by next year.  We'll see.

After that, the whole atmosphere changed and everyone seemed a bit more like themselves, for which I was devoutly glad of.  It is bad enough that I am different, without having to be treated as such.  In was nice to have at least one thing return to the way it had been before Ruathym…even if it was only just the easy camaraderie I had begun to enjoy in my time teaching alongside these men. 

Zelairwyn is due back just before winter, although I keep thinking that the Queen would do well to find him another protector, seeing as I am all but worthless at this point.  Seeing as I can't wield any weapons, and casting spells with any sort of somatic component that requires both hands is a joke, a goblin could probably walk up and laugh at me and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.  And even if I tried, I would have half the clerics in the damned school breathing down my neck, and vowing threats of tying me down for my own good, and so forth.

The fact of the matter is, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I dread each day that passes, for I never seem any better and the thought that I will be a father…again…in another year or so is more like a nightmare, than the dream it would it would be to some.  And there are days that I wish I had died in Ruathym…or at least chosen to be Airk, so at least I wouldn't have to face all of this!

As the summer was harsh, so winter almost seemed worse.  I wonder what sort of temper the gods are in to have cursed the dalelands so?  As if the fires had not caused enough damage, winter set in early, and frosts destroyed much of what harvest remained.  A great deal of people in the dalelands will go hungry this winter, even with food being imported from Cormyr, and further.

A blizzard set in hard the first of winter, and the snows have not let up since.  We have been snowed in at Everall for most of the winter, and more effort has been expended trying to keep the paths clear, and the roofs of buildings from falling in than has been on classes. 

It has been so cold that even the elves have to wear heavy jackets and scarves, less the breath seems to freeze in our lungs.  At night, I can hear the trees exploding as the water in them freezes and expands to the breaking point…falling as the weight of the snow brings even the largest of trees to the ground.     

At least the skin of my back has finally healed over enough that it no longer rips at the slightest activity.  The scar, however, is hideous.  Dark, ugly ridges of scar tissue have formed, crisscrossing the wound, each one a place where the skin had to be stitched back together after tearing.  The skin in between is thin, near white in color and incredibly tender to the touch.  And all around the edges of the wound the rest of my skin is covered with tiny stretch markings where the skin was pulled too tight by the healing spells.

Rose has assured me that it doesn't look so bad, but to my eyes my back is nauseating.  Needless to say that I am almost grateful it is winter, and there is plenty of reason for me to be fully clothed.  Still, when summer comes around again, I do not think I will be walking around shirtless any more.

The one good thing about the scar being healed is that I can move again more easily.  I have begun working my muscles once more, trying to rebuild the strength that I lost.  I had forgotten how hard it was, and my arms shake after only a few hours of stretching and lifting. But I am determined.  I will not be weak again!

Zelairwyn and his companions managed to return right before the worst of the snow set in.  I have to admit that the trip seemed to have been very good for him.  The boy's eyes seemed brighter, his entire demeanor more relaxed than it had been.  He chattered on endless about Evereska, and how he had found a lot of his friends, and how he'd been helping with the repairs to the city all summer long.  His description of Evereska, an elven city high in the mountains, wrapped in mist was one I had heard often, though I have never set eyes on the place.  Still, according to him the mythal was so badly damaged during the attack on the city that the mages there fear they will be unable to repair it.  Not surprising, all things considered.  With the loss of the majority of the high mages left in the world, and high magic itself all but vanished, I doubt there is anything that can be done about a destroyed mythal.  After all it was high magic that created them, and probably only high magic that can fix them.

As soon as he found out what had happened, he had to hear the whole tale from me about my trip to Ruathym.  I told him as much as I felt he needed to know.  He had a wistful look about him when I finished, and he told me that he wished he could have gone with us.  I shook my head at that, reminding him how he enjoyed his trip to Evereska.  He finally conceded that he had, and that perhaps it was conceivable that it was a good thing I had not let him come. 

In many ways, I have to say, Zelairwyn's return was a good thing for me.  Once the scar had healed as much as it seemed it was going to, I began training Zelairwyn once more.  This meant that everyday I put the youth through his paces in an indoor practice area…and everyday I built up my strength and stamina a little bit more towards what it had been.  The practices were probably harder on me than they were on him, but to his credit, Zelairwyn did not taunt me, or hold it over me that I changed so much.  He merely aided me in recovering my strength to the best of my ability.

Still, as I practiced with him, training him to be able to defend himself, I suddenly realized that if my child was a son that I might very well have to go through the same thing with him, that I am going through with Zelairwyn.  And while Zelairwyn is not a bad youth, he is difficult to deal with, especially with his stubborn nature.  If I could barely manage him, how then, would I manage a boy of my own, when I would expect so much more of him?

So I have been praying for a daughter instead.  Girls, at least, I know how to deal with on certain levels.  After all, have I not dealt with Sera and Alliana…my sister and my cousin, Orianna?  Perhaps I spoiled them all a bit too much, but I can hardly be faulted too much for that when everyone else seemed to do the same.  A girl would be so much easier, I have decided.  Rose could deal with all the "girly" things, and I could merely smile and tell her no, when it was time to have someone put their foot down. 

As I do not have much luck with dealing with Kedriel, I do not think I would have any with a son.  Better to have a girl.  After all there was no reason I couldn't have a girl as my heir. Only the humans are so gender specific.

Still, thinking about the baby was not that great of an idea.  I started to wonder what would happen if it was born like me…sick.  It was something I did not want to think about, but was forced to consider.  It had happened to me, and therefore, could conceivably happen to any child of mine.  From what Rosaleen had said, Kelly had suffered no such thing, but then again she was a half-elf...entirely different from what Rosealliele's and my child would be.  Further, I wondered if the all of the magic Rose had been using would affect the baby at all.  It had been documented, in several instances, how the use of strong magic during the formative months of an unborn child , can sometimes have strange effects on the baby.  Sometimes they are born with greater resistance to magic, others times, with a greater affinity for it...and still other times, the magic warped the child in some way….mentally, or even physically.  Considering the strength of the spell Rose had used, I realized that such a fear was justified, and that there was most definitely a possibility that the magic might have done something to the baby.

Once in my mind, I could not seem to get the thoughts out once more.  My reverie was no longer very peaceful as my mind kept drifting back to the same fears.  And I dared not share the communion with Rose, lest she sense my thoughts, my fears, and even my dismay about our child.  She was already nervous enough without my adding to the situation, but it has been hard, not being able to share with anyone how I am feeling.

I wish there was a way to know for certain, but there is no spell, or knowledge for such things.  The best that could be done would be some sort of divination, but I never put much stock in the outcomes of such spells.  I imagine I will just have to wait, and pray for the best…even though, knowing my luck, I should prepare for the worst.

Winter held its hold longer than usual, well past the Greengrass festival, and when spring thaws finally arrived there was not a person in Everall, or throughout the dalelands that did not finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

School was disrupted, as schedules were moved about to accommodate a late planting season.  There was only a span of a few weeks to get the seeds in if there was to be summer and fall harvests…and considering how low stores were getting, everyone agreed that the planting was a good idea.

So as part of a lesson, so to speak, the students and the teachers alike were each designated a place in the dalelands to work, to help with the planting.  Even Rose and I, and many others who could barely identify a plow, or one seed from and other, were drafted into helping the farmers.

At their request, I was sent to Banshee Keep, along with several students, including Sera and Zelairwyn, to help with the planting.  Rose came as well…that was my insistence.

Now though I have done blacksmithing…from the endless repetition of nails, to the intricacies of a sword… though I have raided and adventured, studied and navigated the intrigues of elven court, I have never farmed, or planted as ingle thing.

So while I understood the need for such things, due to the need for food, such things have always been beneath me, or at least beyond the scope of knowledge to understand, or care.  But that is thing about Everall…understanding.  And I was not the only in the school to be so unfamiliar with such things.  It would be a learning experience for, all Liralyn had declared amidst many stares of shock and expressions of disbelief.  By learning about farming and helping those who do, we would all learn about food and where it comes from and how it is grown.  Though she had said this to the students, I felt it was also directed at many of the teachers as well, for I know that I am not the only one who has never had aught to do with such "peasant" work.  And then, as though to drive the point home, she added that all teachers would be assisting in the endeavor by working with the students…that we had to be role models and prove that if we were willing to do this, that the students would have to as well.

So I was sent to Banshee keep, with my wife, Zelairwyn, Sera, Jaelen, Talath, Sorcha, and the entire sum of my elven history class.

Since it was not as far as some of the towns, we rode out to the keep.  When we arrived I had no idea what to expect…nor did most of my students.  Jaelen had tried his best to explain, saying that there would be lots of work, tilling the fields, deciding which fields to grow and which to lay fallow, sorting seeds, planting seeds, plowing, and so forth.  For the most part, it had little impact for the closest I had gotten to anything of the sort was watching the gardeners of Nightstar mansion pull weeds and prune bushes. Most of the others were equally as clueless…even Talath, who though he'd grown up in the wilderness of the forest of Tethyr, claimed he was not allowed near farming implements after he had once tripped and stabbed his uncle in the leg with a pitchfork while trying to help.  I groaned at that, realizing that in Talath, we had one of the most accident-prone students in the school with us. Sy-Tel Quessir though he is, he can barely even manage a bow without shooting someone or something other than his target, for Corellon's sake!  He cannot scribe a sentence on parchment without dumping the entire inkpot on himself.  And the trouble is, we have been hard pressed to find a single profession for him that he can manage with out causing a disaster.

Still, he was at least enthusiastic about the idea of being a farmer for a few weeks, while others were not.  Sera had begun whining almost immediately, stating that dragons do not farm, that she didn't want to get her clothing dirty, and every other excuse she could imagine.  Finally, I told her and the rest that they would not be asked to do anything I was not willing to do.  At first they seemed to think that they were off the hook with such a statement, for they all knew I had no idea about what we were getting into, and assumed that, as a noble, I would give up quickly…using my injury as an excuse.

I was determined to prove them wrong, however.

When we arrived at Banshee keep, it was just as tools, seeds, plows and the like were being pulled out of winter storage and assembled to begin work. In this, I was quick to note that it was not Rain, but the farmer priest who was in charge.  He was the one who, after inspecting everything, began passing out orders as to what to do, where to go, and so forth. He hardly gave us a glance when we arrived, expect to say that half us would be with him in the southern fields, while the other half would go with his wife in the western fields. To the guards of Banshee Keep, Kelerandri Tower, and Steelguard Tower, the dwarven tower to the south that I had never seen, the priest stated that one third of them would be on farming duty for the first week, while the other two thirds would share the guard shifts.  The second week they would rotate out again, and so on.  Basically, there was not a single person of the keep or the two towers who were excluded from the planting, except for the cooks, and the odd gnomish blacksmith whom I never saw, but heard him shout that he'd leave his shop in a coffin, and not before. Very odd.

Rose and half of the students ended up going with the Banshee.  I wasn't happy about her being separated from me, or the fact that she would be working, even though she was now quite obviously pregnant.  Still, Rain was quick to pull me aside and say that she would keep a close eye on my wife, and not allow her to work too hard.  I had to trust the woman, and figured that a woman who has given birth to 10 children and does this every year ought to know how much work Rosealliele can manage without doing harm to herself or the baby.

I was to go to the south fields with farmer priest…Andar, Zelairwyn, Sera, Talath, Sorcha, and roughly half of the Banshee children, among them Jaelen, Emiliana, a boy named Kendahl, about 8 years of age, who looked to be his father's double, but for the fact that he had his mother's hair, and seemed to have some interest in being a priest, judging by a holy symbol of Chauntea he wore proudly around his neck, and even a tiny, somber little boy, no more than 5, by the name of Doren. The four youngest of the Banshee children, the triplets I had seen and a toddler girl were left behind at the keep, but it seemed to me that everyone from the area who could walk was headed out to the fields to help.

The work began with all of us hauling gear, plows, shovels, strange clawed tools and the like down to the fields in wagons.  The fields looked to me as any other fields…grown with weeds and meadow grasses.  Andar, the farmer-priest started handing out tools.  Each of us was given a clawed w=tool that looks a little like a pitchfork with the tines smaller, and turned up on the end.  Andar explained that after the plow was dragged through the field by the horses, we would use these tools to further turn and break up the soil.    And we have to do this to all of the southern fields…which amounts to several dozen acres of land.

We got to work.  It was hard, repetitive work.  It was less than an hour before most of my students began complaining, but I was quick to remind them that they would work as I worked. 

It was a lot of strain, especially considering I am only just barely healed, but I think that it was also a good thing, for the it let me work my muscles, and lungs without doing too much damage along the way.  And I figured that considering the repetitiveness of the work, if I can manage this, I 'll be able to start working in the forge again, before long.

Still, for all that it was boring work, I started to notice things.  After a few days, when everyone seemed to settle into a routine, and the work became more familiar, everyone seemed to relax just a bit.  And there was a sense of satisfaction at being able to look at all the work we had done, and see the difference.  It was like being at the forge in a way, starting with a raw lump of metal and turning it into something useful.  I think that is the biggest problem I have with teaching history….there's no visible result, except that I have taught a group of children about events that occurred long ago, in the hopes that they should learn from them.  Teaching like that is nothing like working at the forge, or farming, or even adventuring.

Mostly, though, I watched Andar and his children…they way they interacted with one another.  The human was very firm with them in that he tolerated no whining and expected them to work as he did…still, I watched the love that was evident in both father and children…how they talked and laughed, working alongside one another.  Whenever one of them stumbled or seemed to tire, their father always seemed to be ready to catch them, to pick them up, or give them a drink and a rest.  And watching them, I started to think about Rain and Kedra and the rest of them.  All of them had children, from what I have been able to see, but all of them had been adventurers once, for I have heard tales of their exploits throughout the dalelands.  And the odd thing is that their adventures didn't seem to stop, even after they had children.  I wondered how Rain and her friends had managed it.  And I thought that perhaps…if they had been able to do so, even despite the presence of obviously young children, maybe my future, was my child was born, wouldn't be so grim after all.

I eventually asked Andar about it, during one of the midday breaks for lunch.    He didn't laugh or ask why I was asking, although seeing as he has met Rose, I can't imagine that he wouldn't be able to figure out my reasons.

"Before I ever met her, my wife was an adventurer, caught up in some strange plots along with Guar and Kedra and a few others," he began.  "And once they'd freed themselves from that, they continued adventuring…or rather they continued fighting against those who would harm others.  When I married Rain, I knew that her need to do such things wasn't going to just go away.  Fighting against evil, helping out those who need it…it's in her nature.  After our son, Gully was born, I think she tried to stop for a while…but as much as Gully made her happy, being trapped and unable to do the things she was used to made her miserable.  After a bit, she started to learn how to balance things…her family and her job as an adventurer."

"So when she leaves, she just leaves the kids with you?" I asked. 

"Mostly, but if she's going somewhere far from here, or if she doesn't think the danger is high, sometimes we go with her…or at least nearer to where she is."

"But don't you think that' s dangerous?  Her enemies could use you against her," I commented.  He snorted.

" Just because I like farming over fighting doesn't mean I'm not capable of handling both.  And as for my children, consider the sort of people they know and the place where they live.  Even Doren," he gestured to the five year old who was had finished his lunch, and had fallen asleep in the middle of a furrow, with his head on a bag of grain seeds, "know how to defend himself. We live in dangerous times…and a farmer in the fields can be killed just as easily as a warrior in an army.  The difference is, is that so long as there are warriors, the farmers will be safer.  But without them, goblins and wore would have free run of the land…and then what would happen to the common folk?"

       I sort of understood what he was saying. Without people who are willing to risk danger, others would suffer.  And while he may not always like what his wife did, he understood the need for it.  And finally, that children did not mean the end of one's life, just a change in it. I realized that if Rain, being who she was and with so much more responsibility than I have, could manage to balance her family, her friends, all the people at her keep, and her job and all of them seemed so content, then maybe I could manage it as well.  How I will do that I haven't quite figured out, but for the first time since Rose had informed me of the baby, I felt a strange glimmer of hope.  And with that came the thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

       And as I continued watching the Hawklight family I felt a little more at ease, as though a weight had been lifted. Maybe…just maybe I will be able to get through this all after all.  

       On a more amusing note, Talath seems to have discovered one of his few skills.  When Emiliana accidentally dropped her holy symbol into the river when she tripped, the young druid started crying that Eldath would never forgive her for being so careless.  Without any prompting, Talath threw his tunic off and dove into the river.  He stayed under for an extraordinary length of time…to the point that both Andar and myself were getting ready to dive in after him, thinking something must have gone amiss.  However, just as we were about to do so, he surfaced, grinning triumphantly.  Not only had he found the holy symbol, but he'd also located an old elven sword that gleamed faintly with magic, an odd "rock" that turned out to be an uncut emerald the size of his fist, and a locked coffer that, when opened, contained a bag of silver coins, a gold ring still attached to a skeletal hand and a letter that disintegrated as soon as it was touched.  Talath merely grinned as everyone else stared incredulously at his finds.  When asked how he had found it all, Talath shrugged his shoulders and stated that he'd always been good at finding things that were hidden or lost.  Now if he can only manage to adequately master the other necessary skills, Talath will someday be in demand as an adventurer…after all such a skill is exactly the sort of things that many adventuring parties…especially the ones out to make a living, would want.

       However, I must say his triumph lost some of its allure when he tripped a few moments later, spilling an entire pitcher of red fruit juice all over Emiliana's pale blue robes.  Back to Talath as usual, I suppose.  

       When we left the fields of Banshee keep some weeks later, I got a definite sense of satisfaction at being able to look over all the neatly planted fields and know that I had helped to make it happen.  I felt much better than I had been feeling, both physically and emotionally, although the work had been very demanding.  And though they still complained, I think that Liralyn's intentions had worked, for the students had learned what it took to create much of the food they ate without a thought, and like myself, I think that helping with the planting gave them all a sense of accomplishment.  Of course, I could be reading too much into it, as well, for some…like Sera never ceased whining.  Oh well.  I've begun to come to the conclusion that you can't win every battle, no matter how hard you try.  And some battles with Sera are just not worth fighting.    

       The planting season passed quickly, and my mood was greatly elevated afterwards.  I had proven that I could handle doing heavy work again, for though I was sore after the weeks spent working in the fields of Banshee keep, the skin of my back did not tear, and my lung no longer burned with pain at the effort of physical work.

       Liralyn stated, after getting approval from the clerics, that I would be able to resume teaching at the forge, which was a great relief.  At least I would have something to do more than reading books and papers.

       I have been able to get back to working with Zelairwyn again. He's getting better…a great deal better I might add.  If his progress keeps up, I think that in a few years time he'll be ready to start training with someone other than I, for he just may exhaust my knowledge in fighting.

       I told Rosealliele everything about how I have been feeling lately.  I had expected her to react badly to the knowledge of how apprehensive I have been over the child, but she quite surprised me when she told me that she often felt the same way.  She added that she while we both thought we were too young to be having a child, it was clear that the gods thought differently, or else this would not be happening at all.

       We spoke about all our fears…of being trapped, tied down, of being bad parents, and of not being able to have enough time with each other.  While I do not think we resolved much, I know that I felt better knowing that she knew how I felt, and that I did not have to hide it anymore.    Finally I told her that Everall was not something permanent for me…that in a few decades, when I thought Zelairwyn was capable of protecting himself, or at least that he needed to train with someone other than I, that I wanted to travel again…that while I liked teaching, and Everall, I didn't think it was something I could do forever.  She responded that she understood, for she too, had wanted to travel…not adventure, mind you, but travel, and that she had come to Everall as a starting point.  She claimed that she saw no reason that travel was impossible, baby or not.  Just because we had never traveled in our youths, doesn't mean that children cannot travel.  To make her point, she used Tobias as an example.  He had grown up in a circus, his parents performing all over Toril since Tobias was a child.  And while Tobias is a bit on the odd side, I cannot say that his mobile childhood damaged him any.

       And once we had come to that understanding…that someday we would leave Everall, that we would take our child with us, that Sera would be allowed to come with us or stay at Everall, as she chose, and that when it came down to it, there was nothing to stop us from doing as we chose except for our own fears and doubt, life seemed to become a great deal easier.

       And with everything seeming to be returning towards normal, I am starting to think that maybe I will be all right after all.  But I am naturally wary of getting comfortable too soon.  After all, that's usually when the ground falls out from under me.