How my head aches. Yet again I am moved to untold admiration for dear Purazon and Korba who have studied and still study so very hard. For all the reading I have done in this room now so dear to me, I am not used to interpreting work and finding specific answers to things - I have spent day upon day here researching for the event we hope to announce soon. It is only right that I should - one cannot have an idea and then expect others to carry it through. But oh how it makes me realise what hard work dear Purazon has immersed himself on with all the events he has organised in the past. Where does that man find the energy….for all the while he is studying and organising, caring and cajoling, training and teaching, and fighting with the strength of many, he is still fervently in devotion to the gods and serving the Queen and her lands…. What inner strength lies there? And now he holds my hand as I stumble through my first tentative plans. I do not deserve him: As a brother, or a friend or… we are so lucky to have him. The entire guild is helping me in my work of course - where would I be without them? Nowhere is the answer. Pain and death are dulled in my memory now it is true, thanks to them, but every so often it is all recent enough for me to remember what I would have become had they not been there to carry me. Well now they help me and support me through something altogether more agreeable. The dear Guild will soon be celebrating a momentous anniversary. I hope my work will help that to happen.

All this time spent at this desk has left me much time for contemplation. I have not the strength of dear Purazon and every so often I must look away from my work and rub my tired eyes, close them and think. I feel - cut loose - slightly at present. I am not quite sure of my place. Sorynn and I spoke at length - her spirit returns to her a little - or at least she acts as though it has - Purazon helped her - they spoke and he said words that comforted her….. though when she repeated them to me there was a bitter sweet taste to them. They have made me wonder…. And opened my longing again. Foolish thoughts - be content with what the gods give us - that is a good philosophy for life.

It is no good wishing for what cannot be: Or to hope to be more than you are. Vanity, it seems, creeps into the strangest places. At least - I think it is vanity. I dream sometimes of a voice crying out to me and my hand reaching down into the blackest of darkness and grasping theirs. Somehow I can draw them up into the light. I heal them and they lay quiet in my arms like a sleeping child. I wake from those dreams with a feeling of deep peace but it lasts but a few fleeting moments.

My mind drifts back to the mountains too. I see them stripped down to the man without the armour and weapons they usually carry so valiantly. I see them relax and close their eyes and look truly happy. No cares or worries over them. That, of course, can never last - they care too deeply and are as much a part of these lands as the very roots of the mountains. Where there is danger, they MUST worry. As they themselves said to my sister - their duty will always come first.

And my lack of dedication is obvious indeed once more - for my mind has scattered about the room away from the task in hand. It will not do. I can look at the empty jar dear Starling gave me and remember why she gave it to me. These thoughts will remain with me alone and not trouble any other. So funny - it feels almost as it did towards the end of those long months when they were close, and yet so far away. But they are NOT far way. They are here in my heart and it always feels as though they are here in the library. I have much to be thankful for and may the gods and goddesses forgive my ingratitude.

Back to work…