Fall Festival, along with the usual celebrations, has passed once more. It was an enjoyable time, with opportuntity to meet up with friends old and new. Parties and contests, charades and seasonal dainties - all enjoyed by those who visited or participated, helped by the fact that we were left in comparative peace to make the most of it all.

I have, as usual at this time of the year, put aside my blades and equipment and spent time in quiet contemplation. I've been alone for the most part, except for the humming of bees, and the memories that accompany me when I tarry in this place that holds so much meaning. My mood has been brighter, my load has felt less of a burden, than has been the case on some days in the past.

I've been looking at a gift from Ellyana, a dagger with it's handle fashioned in the shape of a scorpion. The craftmanship is exquisite, and quite unmistakeable. I'd recognise Denion's work anywhere. I shudder to think how long it took her to find her way to the smithy and back, and smile wryly as I wonder how many times she got lost in her travels. The result, this example of the smith's art, is a wonderful gift I shall treasure always.

The bees bustle around me, but the place is quiet. In my mind I still see those who shared this place, that time, with us. And the bees seem to whisper an echo of the words Ellyana spoke ...

One heart. One soul. One life. One love.