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 Posted: Tue Mar 14, 2006 6:21 pm
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Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2009 10:29 pm
He looked down at the journal that he had been carrying with him. A part of him remembered who gave it to him, no matter how hard he had tried to forget. Just those thoughts brought up so much regret in him. Maybe he was more like his mother, Eirnae. He had never meant to put Rhi through what Mum Lenore had gone through. He'd done it quite by accident, but it was no excuse. Working, researching, getting caught up in his endless quest for knowledge. And then one morning he woke up and realized that all those months had passed, that there was no going back either.
He had a long talk with Lenore, told her that he needed to go, to learn what he really wanted out of life. He wanted to learn more about Eirnae's people, about her people, he wanted to see if that was where he really fit in. Mum Lenore had done her best, but she had not spent as much time with the elves as she would have liked, and Uncle Rinion was busy with Aunt Krista, what with her having been pregnant. Aunt Ximena was the first to admit that there wasn't much about her people that she knew, and she would be of absolutely no help to Damien. It seemed that the only person that would have been able to help him was his grandmother, Alasseo. Sadly, she had died before he could get to know her better.
So, with Lenore's skeptical blessing (he was much too young to be running off into the woods on his own!), he had packed a travel pack and was off in the direction in which Rinion had pointed him, with a caution from his uncle that the elves might not be there anymore. Teu'Tel'Quessir were known for not staying in one place for too long....
He pulled himself from his thoughts and ran the fingertips of his right hand over the metal leaf on the cover of the journal, watched as it caught the pale light of the moon and the warm light of the small fire he was sitting in front of. Well, it only seemed fitting that he would be using the first pages of the journal to try and start to at least chronicle his journey. It was a fresh start, was it not? Even if the very journal would cause that same sharp pain of regret, of guilt. He'd deal with it, had dealt with it, and he would be stronger for it.
Damien rolled his eyes as the twin long swords that Eirnae had given him all those years ago on Christmas decided to start chattering. He had known that it was too much to ask for them to be quiet. But, such was the path that he had started down the moment he touched those swords. They were bound to him, and he to them. It was only through his travels that he knew just why -
Again, he cut his thoughts short. He really should be writing all of this down, after all. Wasn't that the reason he had pulled the journal out? And, at the core, wasn't that the reason he had absentmindedly thrown the journal in his travel pack to begin with? So, without letting himself fall into the trap of his musings once more, he pulled out a quill that had seen better days, and dug out the ink well that he had very recently procured - seeing as how all his other ones had dried up by now. Taking a deep breath, his closed his sea green, serpentine eyes and opened the journal.Journal 7 September, 2009.
Looking at that date now, I can't believe it has been so long since I have left home. I don't even know where to begin with all of this. Perhaps the beginning would be a good idea.
I don't know when it happened, and I don't know how I could have let myself get caught up in so many things that I would ignore the woman that I had asked to spend the rest of her life with me, but when I did realize what I had done; well, I decided that I had to get myself together, to figure out just who I was, what I wanted, what path was I on. I am told that this is typical of people of a certain age. Unfortunately, I had never given a thought to this, not really, and it came as a crushing blow to me to realize that I was not even remotely close to the path that I was supposed to be on. I don't know what brought that to my attention, perhaps it was just one of those feelings you get in life, the ones that you know you're supposed to listen to.
This time, I decided that I had better listen. After all, who better to listen to than myself, at least where matters of importance are concerned? So, I had a long discussion with Mum Lenore. I think it helped that I was being rational about the whole thing, even if her first reaction was to tell me that I couldn't go. I explained my reasons to her, and it took over two hours for me to finally convince her that this was the right thing for me. All the while, I could feel my frustrations mounting. How was I any different than Nyoka, who had all the freedom in the world? Was it only because Mum Lenore had actually given birth to me? I tried my best not to let it bubble over, and I would like to think that I succeeded. But, part of me thinks that Mum Lenore had seen something of a hint in my eyes as to what I was feeling. Perhaps that was another reason she gave me her blessing?
My journey started the next morning, after I had spoken to Uncle Rinion. He warned me that the Teu'Tel'Quessir were a nomadic people, that they would very likely not be in the place where he had left them. And, I soon found out that he was correct. There was not even the remnants of their having been there, and I didn't know the first thing to do after that. By the time I had reached the location, the sun was rapidly setting; it was either camp there or hope to reach some sort of civilization before night fell. Unfortunately, the swords that Eirnae gave to me made up my mind for me. (As an aside, I have since named them: Naerdiel (nyre-dee-ell meaning 'lady of sorrows') is the decidedly more feminine of the pair, while Bregolien (brehg-ole-ee-ehn meaning 'fierce') is the male.) They promised that they would watch over me, that they would protect me. At the time, I did not know what they could have possibly meant by that. They weren't your average swords, obviously, but they were still only that.
Against my better judgment, I listened to them. I found a spot with relatively decent shelter and made a crude bed out of the blanket that I had remembered to bring. It wasn't long before I had passed out. In he morning, unaccustomed as I was to sleeping on the hard ground, I was sore - and, more importantly, unscathed. My first evening out in unfamiliar territory, alone, and I had managed to survive. Yet, I would not allow myself to get cocky, for I knew that I was still relatively close to Emerald Haven. The enchantments protecting the land would not help me the further away from it that I would get. There were dangers out there that I was sure I would not be prepared for. I only hoped that I would meet up with the Teu'Tel'Quessir before I happened upon those dangers.
Was I worried that they would not accept me? Perhaps there was a little worry there. But, my brethren were known as those that were more accepting of the outside races. Not to mention, if they were the same band that my uncle was traveling with, I was sure that they would at least extend me some courtesy. And, I had a leg up, my uncle was on friendly terms with the brother of the leader of this nomadic group. He had instructed me to look for the elf named Istuion. I had been schooled in the elven language my whole life, so I was sure that I could at least communicate with them, as well.
I had a breakfast that consisted of fresh water and a few nibbles off of the elven cakes which I had pilfered from the stash that Eirnae had put aside, and then I was on my way again. The next week went by with little to report. I made progress, camped at night, and had the same breakfast every morning.
However, during that time I realized just how little I had prepared my body for such a journey. My travel sack was small, enchanted to hold far more than it looked capable of and to still feel light. Honestly, I think that I could have carted around a whole pantry full of food, half of my closet (including my shoes), and all of my toiletries with little effort. So, it was not the weight that I was carrying around - even if Bregolien and Naerdiel are not the lightest things to have strapped to your hips. I had never walked for any considerable length of time, especially not in the manner that I was doing so now. And, the fact that my path seemed aimless wore on me, as well. It's hard to remain confident when you are not even sure you are going in the right direction. Bregolien was absolutely sure that I was going the right way. By the way, if anyone should happen to read this some day, do not think me mad for following the advice of a sword. Naerdiel and Bregolien are not your typical swords, and I assure you that the statement just made will be proven later on in my entries.
So, I followed his instructions, and kept going. Any time he told me to alter course, I did. For a week this went on, and by the end of it I was good and spent. Every muscle in my body was aching, I was dirty, my clothing was torn and my boots were not as shiny as I was used to them being. I would have been unrecognizable to any of the people who knew me if they were to have stumbled upon me. That night I did not even bother to make camp, I just fell onto a soft patch of clover and passed out.
And, then, it happened. I did not feel as if I had gotten any sleep when I was awoken by the sharp cries of my name. Looking back on this moment later, that was the first time that I was ever grateful that I was the only one that could hear Naer's and Gol's voices, for a dire boar was rooting around nearby. This thing had to be close to ten, eleven feet long, and I couldn't begin to tell you how much it weighed. It's arched back was taller than me, and I could see a strange armor on its head and its back. His tusks were huge and looked as though, if they were to pierce me, I would be cut in half. But, the eyes are what held me. They were beady little things, and all that could be discerned from their depths was sheer fury. Indeed, they were red and orange, ablaze with the emotion.
I was frozen in place, there was no way I could make myself move. I had light feet, yes, but I was sure the moment that I started to stand, the beast would know that it was not alone. All I could think was, 'If I just stay where I am, it won't notice me. It will move back into the trees and go on its way, seeing that there was nothing edible around.'
But, Naer was telling me that I had to move, that I had to get into the cover of the trees as quickly as possible. Now, at the time, my faith in her was not as great as my faith in Gol was. She'd thus far only proven to be sadder than a sword had any right to be. She hadn't spoken very much, at least not to me, and when she thought I was sleeping I would hear her sobbing softly. So, I hesitated, wondering if I should listen to her, or if I should keep with my plan - the one that seemed the safest. But, she was telling me to move again, this time not in that morose tone of hers, but in a more urgent one. 'Damien, move! It's going to see you, and it doesn't look like it's eaten in quite some time!'
And, I was just about to listen ... when the dire boar's head swung around and it looked straight at me. I could feel my eyes growing wider as all manner of thoughts went whirling through my mind; thoughts like, 'I never should have left home!' and, 'Nyoka and I never really did get all that far in our sword lessons,' and, 'How am I going to get out of this one?' Something in me must have been formulating a plan even as I heard the boar let out an angry huff of breath. For, while my eyes had grown to the size of saucers, and my mind decided that it was time to have my pitifully short and uneventful life flash before my eyes, my hand was slowly moving for my wand - the only weapon I really knew how to use. I only had enough time to pray that I could get my wand in my hand before the boar charged; and then it did.
'Move, Damien!' Naer cried again, a deeper sense of urgency in her voice now. She sounded as though her life depended on me not getting trampled. At the time, I figured that it could have, after all if I were to be crushed under the hooves of this animal, she and Gol most certainly would have been. 'Now!' and that was the thing to snap me out of my trance-like state. I rolled out of the way, grabbing my pack as I did so, just in time to feel the ground beneath me give a mighty shake, and I heard the thunderous crack of the boar splintering the trunk of the tree under which I had taken refuge. I sprang to my feet as it shook its armored head, and my wand was in my hand. 'Forget it, just take cover in the trees.' She was calmer now, and I knew I could trust her advice now. 'They're too close together, it might knock itself out if it tries to follow you.'
'Brilliant,' I thought, though in all honesty my tone was not so optimistic. My eyes darted to the ruined trunk of the tree, which was still standing - for now. But, I heeded her advice, and I darted into the forest. I heard the angry squeal that the boar gave off, and felt the ground beneath me shake once more, the approach of its hooves as I reached the cover of the trees. I heard some of the weaker, younger trees crack as the boar came roaring through them. I could only pray to whatever god was out there listening that I would soon be in the cover of stronger, sturdier trees before the beast reached me.
It seemed like hours I ran, listening to the thundering hoof-falls and the sound of splintering wood as the boar started gaining on me. And then, with a deafening crack, the wooded area around me fell silent. I heard the loud thump of something heavy hitting the ground, felt the vibrations under foot, but still I ran. I ran until I heard Gol's voice, 'Damien, you can rest now.' I started to slow my pace, to listen to my surroundings. I did not hear the approach of the beast, I did not hear its breath snorting angrily through its nostrils, nor did I feel its approach. I had made it, at least for another night. And, yet, I kept moving, moving until I could no longer hold myself up with my tired legs, moving until my mind was blank with weariness. I don't recall collapsing under the tree, I don't recall using my pack as a pillow, all I remembered next was waking up to morning birdsong.....
And, this is where I pause for the evening. I've still got a long journey ahead of me, home this time, and I am going to need my strength in the coming weeks.
- D
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Posted: Thu Sep 10, 2009 6:50 pm
Two days and he had not made much progress in his trek home. If he were to be honest with himself, he was dragging his feet. A great part of him did not want to go home, he wanted to stay in the place where he felt he belonged, with the elves he now - truly - thought of as his people. But, there was also a part of him, a part that was much smaller than the part that didn't want to return home, that knew it was time. He's been gone far too long. If he were to look deeper, he was sure that he would find that he missed his family. He missed Emerald Haven, even if the place seemed absurdly lavish to him now. He'd grown accustomed to a more modest way of life, now; smaller homes that had just enough room for what it needed to hold. Which was not a lot, since while living amongst the Teu'Tel'Quessir, anyway, they didn't stay in one place for very long. In fact, he hadn't accumulated much in the way of momentos, aside from a larger wardrobe. A few trinkets here and there to chronicle where he'd traveled, and small gifts for those whom he was no going to see again.
He nibbled on one of the wondrous elven cakes he had to stock up on for his return journey, and stared down at the blank page. Was he intent on continuing the documentation of his strange journey? Or would he much rather lie back on his makeshift bed - which was just as wondrous as the bread - and rest? Since his body had grown more accustomed to sleeping outdoors and to the life of a traveler, he did not need the rest. So, he settled on continuing his writing.Journal 9 September, 2009
In the days following my strange encounter with the dire boar, my traveling went far more quickly, if not more cautious. I began to take far greater care in studying my surroundings, for I was not keen on a repeat of my standoff.
Though I did learn something that would prove to be useful in making my travels seem to go much faster. Having Naer and Gol with me would prove useless unless I learned to use them. My wand could only do so much, learning how to use another weapon would be useful. Again, Nyoka was quite right.
Alas, I did not have a proper teacher. I was very much alone in my quest for knowledge, so all I had to go on were the beginnings of my training with my sister and the instructions from Naer and Gol. Again, it wasn't much to go on.
Of the two, Gol was far more helpful, though Naer was far more patient; and I found myself musing about their distinctly different personalities. Which made me wonder- again - at the origins of my swords. Whenever I would voice any of those musings as to their history in the form of a question, I would get the same answer from the both of them: All will be revealed once you know. The response was frustrating in its vagueness and lack of information.
So, I clumsily went on, training alone, learning techniques as they were dictated to me by my swords; and listening to them tell me how very I badly was bungling up the moves. The training, coupled with my equally solitary journey, brought a strange longing in me. I had never required the company of others, preferring to study in quiet and wander the grounds of the Haven in solitude. But, whether I liked it or not, there had always been someone around. I had never been truly alone. Now that I was alone, with only the company of Naer and Gol, I realized how much interaction with others was a vital part of everyday life. And, with this realization, I began to deviate from Gol's travel instructions whenever possible. I began to seek out the small towns and villages set close to the river or along the trade routes. I would stay a night or two, learning piece by piece about the land in my brief stays.
I also began to learn more of the Teu'Tel'Quessir. I began to learn that I favored them more than Eirnae's wood elven bloodline, save - I was informed repeatedly - for my hair. I learned that the elves I was looking for were the most well-known of the elven races, at least to the folk I came across (which were, as a whole, non-elves). I learned that, to most of those non-elves I was now coming across, the Teu'Tel'Quessir were an outgoing and a pleasant sort, even if they were very inquisitive (perhaps that very trait that I possess was inherited?). They were even willing, to an extent, to answer questions about themselves. One woman I spoke to quoted their usual answer, however, perfectly (or, so she claimed), "Those secrets are not ours to tell." She later went on to say that she thought they had left off the end of the sentence (which was, "At least not to those without elven blood running through their veins.").
My journey had a purpose again when I came across a small village deep within the forest. I was told that the elves that I was looking for had left not three weeks prior, and in which direction they had appeared to have gone. Recklessly (for I knew that it was hard to track an elf - especially one so used to traveling - even if you were just a few hours behind them), I decided that this news was too good not to act upon as soon as I could. I hurried out of the village too quickly to hear the warnings that were poised on the villagers lips.
Had I bothered to listen, I would have avoided my next brush of bad luck. I would have known that there was another danger that had recently took up residence in the forest around the village ... and that it was not any dire boar.
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Posted: Fri Sep 11, 2009 7:40 pm
Journal 11 September, 2009
This is where I thank the Lady that I was well versed in my magical knowledge - at least in the brand of magic that Mum Lenore used. For, if I had not been, I fear that I would not have been on my way home.
The danger that was awaiting me was of the human kind; petty bandits and flesh traders. Almost as soon as I was back out into the woods I heard their approach. Unfortunately for me, I had still not grown as alert as I could have been, and my reflexes were not what they should have been. At the first hint of trouble, I should have turned back and ran into the village. Of course, I did no such thing. Instead, I cloaked Naer, Gol, and my wand so that whoever was coming to greet me would not be able to find them. My quick thinking in that respect would be beneficial to me ... in time.
But, as it related to my present situation, it had me cornered. If I reached for any of my weapons, it would tip off that I had them. That was not a hand I wished to show at the moment. I realized that I did not have time to do that sensible thing that I mentioned earlier, so I stayed still, waiting. I could hear Bregolien and Naerdiel grumbling over my idiotic behaviour. I was inclined to agree that I was, indeed, being an idiot, but I really didn't see any other options.
Before I could think of a way out of my situation, they were on me. Hands were grabbing my arms, pinning them behind my back, and I was lifted off of my feet as my pack was being ripped from my back. I could hear the contents of the pack being rummaged through, while another pair of hands were checking my pockets and patting me down.
"Where's the money?" I was asked.
I was still managing to stay calm, even in my present predicament. So, slowly, I looked around for the source of the voice. My eyes fell on a man that seemed hardened by the life he lead. I suppose, if I had met him at an earlier part of his life, he might have been a handsome man; a strong jawline, deep set blue eyes that seemed more icy than warm now, a long, curved nose that somehow seemed to fit his square face. His mouth was set in a line of irritation and he was staring angrily at me.
"I'm just a lone traveler, friend," I replied.
"Bullshit," the man spat at me, and then pulled at the tunic that I was wearing. "This says otherwise. Now, I repeat, where's the money?"
And, that was when I decided that I really needed to get more modest clothes - at least for when I travel. But, up until then, I had no need. I hadn't thought that the way that I dressed would draw attention, it was just second nature, my 'style', if you will, an extension of myself. And, now, it seemed as though it would make more trouble than it was worth.
"You've checked my pockets, you've checked my pack. Obviously I don't have any money," I replied as diplomatically as possible. All that earned me was a burst of stars in my eyes as the man's fist connected with my jaw.
"We're taking him with us," the man said. "I'm sure some fancy lady would like to have a fancy houseboy." And, this was the beginning of my lessons in the so-called underworld....
- D
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