Well - it will soon all be over for another year. I have heard many reports of smiling faces and good times - I even managed to see the bonfire as it burned on after a party given by the gracious goddess herself. I had a mug of Azure's drink; though drinking it in costume felt very strange. I have worn it the past few days and find myself striding around and stamping my feet and being rude to everyone with consumate ease. The shouting is tiring though... Dear Purazon now a strange creature instead of a baby n'rolav beast. I let 'Balthazar' tell him there was always something strange about him...that cleric for a start. Knight Azure gave me quite a turn though - to see her dressed as him was very strange indeed. Perhaps wearing a costume was a good thing - it prevented her seeing my blushes and hot face.

No sign of Richard, but word from Skylsganin. One sadness and one blessing.

So now the time draws near for it all to be over it will be time to think on other things. Back to training, back to writing.

How I long for some time alone - no, not alone, but with one other. I had a beautiful dream and awoke, or so I thought, looking up at a starlit sky, my head resting gently across their lap. They hummed a song and stroked my hair absently and I felt all hurt and tenseness washing away to be replaced by gentle peace and a stirring in me. I felt their lips press against my forehead and closed my eyes with a happy sigh.

I opened my eyes again and it was late in the day. I caught a glimpse of myself and realised I had woken as Balthazar.

And it felt so real too...... what a pity....

And so festival goes on. A surreal place indeed the land seems at present, especially in Dundee. I am not sure how it all feels - I feel detached from it. Part of me lingers at the edges longing to join in. Part of me almost feels I do not belong here at all so long was I away and so….. sad recent times. Part of me longs to sing and drink wine and nectar and maybe even to dance. Part of me wants to don the costume and melt away and disappear into the crowds of gods and demons.

Again I think of Richard. He seemed to find it so funny that I could not. I think his dancing must be very different to that I knew in my birthland. Certainly I would not have required rugged boots for that style of dancing. It was formal and silent, but very, very graceful. The smallest movement seemed to say so much about someone. I was good at it - at least I was told I was. Apparently my head movements - the slight inclinations, the coy glances were elegant, and my delicate hands were an advantage. By the gods and goddesses how that thought makes me want to burst out laughing now. The dancing Richard had in mind was a more expressive affair I think - with whirling skirts and streaming hair and breathless, rosy cheeks. He never came right out and said it but he knew how I longed to be a worthy partner - still do in truth - for that dearest of ones. Well I never got my lessons, and never got to dance either: Probably a good thing. Sunrifter alone knows what a blessed mess I could have got myself into in the attempt! How long ago it seems though only a year. How much has happened. Love seemed so new and shy even though it was many months grown by then and secretly before that. That feeling still has not changed. Still I see them anew each times my eyes are blessed to look upon them. Still I feel my breath catch in my throat. Still my cheeks will redden and I will have a sudden urge to look to the floor or run away - and all the while that feeling is fighting with wanting to rush across the room to them. Even as I write here I feel delicious excitement mixed with an internal nervous laughter. The bitterly sweet dreams I have play with me - wishful thinking or the future? Only the gods can know.

I like being here in the theatre. I can remember fond times …. laughter with the hunter and the little Crier……exhausted trembling as an initiate and the relief of being shown to these comfortable seats…..my Lord Dagobert talking to me of what it might mean to be a cleric among many other things…..and Purazon. Dear brother and Knight. We read here and talked here…..I think even in the first day of my arriving.

Was I really shown my path by the gods so soon? They must have been very sure it was the right one.

I have a bit of a sore throat today. All that shouting….

Against my better judgement I was persuaded into donning a costume. I awoke completely disorientated and honestly could not think where I was for a time. It was the laughter and noise below that finally wakened my senses and I realised I was above the inn at Dundee. It is a long time indeed since I slept there. I had forgotten how cosy it is. I ventured down the stairs and had the familiar unease of Festival creep over me - there really is something unsettling about suddenly finding yourself surrounded by creatures that leave you itching to draw your weapon. This was a strange crowd indeed though - the number of gods and goddesses was breathtaking! It took me a few moments to realise however that one of the costumes was not worn by any commonplace adventurer. The Great Goddess Miranda herself was among us and was disguised as Ben himself! I could not help but kneel before her. Beneath her costume a new robe could be glimpsed of such radiant beauty it was breathtaking and her Beloved Finger was adorned by her ring of guild-hall destruction. A terrifying weapon indeed.

With her Gracious presence in the inn I certainly did not think a costume was a good idea and looked into my pack with great uncertainty. I was persuaded down into the corridor to change however and soon a presence of great evil stood - well that is not true. A small adventurer quaking in her boots stood among them before her goddess covered in no less that Demon Lord Balthazar. I did try and get into the spirit of it and surprised myself at the voice I was able to project. I confess though I have never been more terrified. The goddess is wise and beautiful and spontaneous. I had no idea whether she would tolerate such insolence. I was quite safe though - after some merry laughter and a wish that all would enjoy the Festival and a supply of wonderful cider to Jeffrey she departed and I thankfully remained un-noticed. I slipped out of character and was recognised by my voice. It was time then to smile, remove the costume and make my excuses and slip away.

I have asked Knight Azure to make sure they enjoy themselves in whatever guise they choose. I believe they look wonderful as Ben….

I will go back to the caves….perhaps dressed as their ultimate master I might fare better than of late.

Funny….news does not knock me off my feet anymore. It just gets absorbed into the numbness I feel underneath my skin. It is the strangest of feelings. It is rather as I remember things from years ago when I wandered the snows of the western mountains. I remember my fingers and toes becoming colder and colder until I could feel no sensation in them. So it is now beneath my skin all over. No sensation. And no amount of kindness in Jensen’s hut will persuade it back again.

I am happy in myself - what do I have to be unhappy about? Any with such blessings as I have has no right to be anything but radiantly happy.

Festival is starting so I hear. I hope everyone has a marvellous time. I do not feel in a festival mood. I feel…suspended from reality. Strange how notes from dear, dear friends that would usually lift my spirits seem almost painful to receive. It is not their fault - not at all.

The wind blows chill here atop the tower. The draft carries through the halls and echoes with sweet regrets. The walls listen with aching sighs.

I think if I could only see Richard - that would bring comfort indeed. Somehow I still associate festival with him. Him and Skyls. It would be good to see his face too.

As long as dear Purazon is at peace and has the chance to let his armour down, as it were, at festival I do not care.

I have things I should be doing - dear Glorina - she spurred my conscience without realising it. ‘How goes the training’ she asked. I could give no answer for since my return it has not. Well then. Instead of sitting and brooding I should just get on with it. I almost shrug at the idea of being before those dread creatures. They or I will die; so mote it be.

Since my return I confess I have been a lazy, dreamy, contemplative cleric. It cannot last of course - I have polished and oiled all my armour and my beloved rapier. They gleam and shine in a way that would make even Purazon proud! I just wish I could wear them with even nearly as much distinction…. how that thought makes me smile! The very idea!

My mind has not been idle even if my body has enjoyed its rest. I feel better than I have done for years. My limbs are strong, my skin is tanned from the sun. I feel hungry often which is a novel thing for me. I have not managed to reconcile the sadness in my heart relating to certain matters. I do not think I ever could or would. But I can, at least, see the path laid out before me again. It winds towards a mountain top. The mountain top takes me closer to the gods and to the very wonder of their creation. I know when I reach it the view will be breathtaking. And I know I will find them there to share it with.

Amazing the things you think about over a pirate ale….

The eyes were gentle, the words soft, the arms warm. The face as I remembered - but more than that for they looked so….happy…just to be looking on mine. And I felt their pain. It is etched into the lines on their face. And they bore it alone. Yet there was no blame, no retributions…. no, this was a gladness of sorts that I had not witnessed it. Such compassion and gentleness of spirit. Their sadness made me ache and yet the beauty of them rendered me utterly helpless.

Forever is always there, but now is for now Starling said. The now was tender and beautiful and a gift from the gods.

Love rushes like the highest tide, the fiercest flames.

Consume me - I willingly submit.

I have found myself sitting in the plains again looking at the past……..wondering about the future. When the sun shines on the plinth it is almost blinding in its kaleidoscopic whirl of reflections. I think I must have hypnotised myself.

He looks as though He were dwelling on something too as He stands there. The past….is gone…the future? He must be proud. Does His spirit look down on it all from His place with the gods? Does He see Her, watch Her, long for Her? Does He wish He could take the burden away? It does not bother Her as it did Him I do not think...

It seems so distant now as to be a memory. I cannot remember Him exactly. I remember His voice. I remember His hands - quite small and the fingers not so long…. I remember His kindness. I remember vividly His words. But all these parts do not make a sum. They are all fleeting and separate thoughts. The ring - so much a part of Him is safe in my vault. It meant so very much to pass it on to that dearest of ones and to see it on their hand. Was I wrong to want them to wear something with no connection to the past? Something that was just from me and of me? Or was I selfish in taking it from them? Did I do it to try and make my mind easier…

No I did not. I did it because of the deepest honour, thankfulness, respect and complete and utter love that I feel. Should the day come they do not wish to wear it - then they shall have the other back - for no truer, more steadfast, trusted friend was there to the one who gave it to me.

I have hardly seen a face - none since Knight Azure and Thorin. I have received a few messages though that have puzzled me greatly.

I am Valornian and Kimaldian through and through but I confess as I sit here I feel like an Ethucan stranger.

I will drive myself mad. I need to find them and soon.

So after what seemed a vision advising me against it, I am back.

I went to the guards at the doorway suddenly feeling very vulnerable. To them I would have looked Ethucan to the core - at least at first glance - I was carrying no weapon and nothing was said so I cannot think why I was nervous. Looking back I believe it was feelings of worry at coming back at all.

No message was answered. To be fair I saw none pass by here, but even so it feels like an omen. Another was the fact that as I steeled myself against the feeling that has flooded through me before upon passing that great doorway and finally pushed myself forward I was flung back again. The guards either pretended to not see or truly did not see. The doorway showed all the signs of being open and I sat a while contemplating it and what it meant. Was I meant to pass back? Were the gods telling me to keep away…. Yet at the same time I felt a tightening within me that seemed to be calling to me from Valorn.

Eventually I wondered whether perhaps there was another meaning: Whether the doorway appearing closed was a mirror on life. If things look impossible should we just ignore them - or should we try harder.

I stepped forward and found myself kneeling on the swampy ground with the familiar feeling of glowing sickness gripping me like a mantle. Looking back the doorway now glowed open. Asking me to go back? I just do not know. But here I am back on Valornian soil.

I made it as far as the gates of Dundee. I looked on them in a way I never have: A sort of wondering exploration with my eyes. It seemed completely unfamiliar and as if I did not belong. Passing through the gates I might as well have been a travelling peddler or untrained initiate. I passed through the door to the Inn in a kind of daze. I wanted to cry when I saw the familiar face I saw - so glad I was to see it. She was sitting cleaning and at first it seemed all was well, but when she looked up her eyes were dark and troubled, her countenance fleetingly full of….something. A brief acknowledgement and then it seemed she struggled to push this down and seemed more herself. Just as a few words were spoken the Crier’s voice ripped through the town - Demons on Kilican. Perhaps I am paranoid but she almost looked thankful as she dashed from the place to go to duty and aid. So there, completely alone, in the Inn I sat and rested my head on my arms and slept.

It was a fitful sleep - dreams came to me I did not like and troubled me greatly. She joined her comrade on the Island and there was no way for them to return or be reached. They looked almost happy though…

A voice roused me and looking up it was Thorin. I will not forget his kindness.

So I write now briefly before sleeping in the upstairs room. I did not want to wake again not knowing who I might see.

I wonder if they too had answered the call…. Foolish thought - of course they would. When will I see them? When I do what will I say? Will they even want to see me…..have I done anything so very different to abandoning them? I do not feel like Vardian. I do not know who I feel like. But I am back and I am well. And I am a cleric and Kimaldian. Despite all these things I do feel so terribly alone…

I hope that nothing else that makes me who I am and what I am and breathes the very life into me has changed.

I am not sure I deserve to hope or pray for that - but it is all I can do.

My brother Agiazon once told me that you can see Ben in the beauty of all things ever created. It is easy to appreciate those words here. The flowers and trees are so very, very beautiful. The fountains play softly with the light. The cries of birds are not to be feared but to be marvelled at….. I see the beauty much more on those things than the buildings that once impressed me so much. They are still awe inspiring and still wonderful to behold - but they seem more so to me because of their setting than for their own sake. Still no messengers come - so I suppose I should ease my heart that I have not offended any with my clumsy words.

I feel sort of…vacant about things. I no longer grieve over ones who have left - but I do not rush to hold them against my bosom in friendship either. They are simply….gone. I find that the hardest thing. I should still weep that they are gone - I should feel hurt that they find a home elsewhere or I should feel overwhelmingly happy for them that the gods have opened another path. It does not mean I do not love them dearly - it just means I have run out of emotions. I am so tired: So very, very tired - Despite the clean air, good food, rest and wonderful things to occupy my mind. I have enough sleep, I am warm and comfortable. Yet I am tired still. I find myself sitting here in the shade so often. Every so often a soft noise in the leaves as a berry falls. I sat many marcs just rolling one around in my fingers trying to get a sense of all the life within it - all the potential within it: But it would not come.

It almost makes me want to scream really. I would love to be able to leap out of my body and confront this useless form. I just do not feel ready to go back or inspired to. Am I waiting for the next body blow of disappointment? The only thing I yearn to get back to is that dear, dear face. They will be busy with festival - if it has started - I suppose. Duty, honour, protection, devotion, faith. Not as weak as I. I hate the self-pitying tone of my days.

I think what it is, at the very core of it all, is the sudden collapse of trust. The family are…they mean so much… that when someone does the very thing they swore to you they would never do - when I realise I can never sit with them atop the tower or in the guild quarters. They are the people I trust the most. And that trust was misplaced. Their love for me does not change, I do not think, but it has shaken me to the very core. Though I block the feeling out my mind cannot help but ask - what else that is trusted to the point where it is the very root of you might one day disappear and leave your roots exposed to the cruel elements of life?

I will not think on that any more. I will look in the water where I remember seeing that dear face. Look in the water and await yet another terrifyingly beautiful starry night sky…