Disclaimer: I own everything! I own the plot and the character…you don't know how long I have been waiting to say that!

Lonan Aurëkson

The Personal Book

Found and Posted by Lys

Chapter One

February 22, 1601

Some people start writing in a personal book by saying that they have never had one before and that they are not quite sure how to start. I have had a personal book before, a long time ago. When my father was still alive he used to bring me things from all the places he had been as a soldier. I haven't written much since then, and have forgotten how I started, so I am just going to start with the first thing that enters my head.

Today is my fifteenth birthday, but nobody has really noticed and I really don't care. Today has been an ordinary day at my grandparent's inn, so there really isn't much to notice.

Today, like every other day this month, the inn was empty in the morning, save the few drunkards who were gone too quickly to get home last night. The women, like usual, were busy in the afternoon with cooking. And then there is always Grandma Reganne's meticulous cleaning to be done and Grandpa Attila likes me to help him with the accounting. I have to help them while listening to Grandma Reganne ramble on about the small town we live in, the rumors of distant lands, the newest news of court (which, by the time it gets here, is pretty old), the ways I, as a young man, should behave and all the reasons why she was right on that last argument between her and Grandpa Attila.

Grandpa Attila and Grandma Reganne always fight about their different opinions from how the baker's daughter is behaving with the apprentice boy of the blacksmith's to how late the rain is coming this year. They argue about the inn, me, their friends and relatives, my mother, the past skirmishes, and anything else that crosses their path. It's not that they don't love each other, I don't doubt that for a second, but they are both very headstrong people and have very set views on life. Grandpa Attila is respected in this town and is really named Avithohol, which means "little father", but everyone just calls him Attila, "headstrong". A fitting name, just like my mothers.

My mother's name is Amala, " hopeful". She is quiet despite everything that happens but I was told in one of my grandmother's chattering moods while dusting the mantel in the main room that Amala used to be, let me use the words that Grandma used, "a nice girl with a lot of spunk that always knew what she was about and why she was here on this miserable earth. Amala and Aurek were perfect for one another. He was such a good soldier, your father was, and ready for marriage and a good life with Amala. Just like your great, great uncle Alfred, who married your great aunt Elizabeth, he was also a good soldier, why he was so clever that…." This was, of course, not the end of her discourse on our family history. She doesn't stops once she gets rolling. Now, my mother just sits in a corner weaving, sewing, and sometimes playing her harp for those who come to our little inn. She has no hope left to inspire her. Once in a while, late in the night, I can hear her harp sing her constant lamentation. It was on one of these nights, about a month ago, that I found this personal book.

Grandma would say that the music led me to the book. Grandpa would then contradict her saying that it was the gods working through the music that led me to the book. Why they bother talking about gods I will never know. I say that I stumbled across it while going to get a drink. The music was very beautiful that night, so enthralling that I forgot to look where I was going as I tried to get out of my bedroom down to the well in the middle of our courtyard to get a drink. I tripped over something (half kicking it) and fell flat on my face. I tried to catch myself but I was half asleep and my reflexes weren't working too fast. It was dark and I thought it was the cat that had taken to wandering around the inn at night so I just got my drink, and then went to bed. The next morning I had some extra time so I went to investigate what I had tripped over. Discovering the empty book I took it back to my room, after picking up an extra quill and ink jar on the shelves. I kept them both ready for when I had more time to think of what to do in this new discovery. Paper is usually hard to come by and to find an entire book with nothing in it is a treasure.