Render was my hopes. It was also special to me, in many ways, and remains so - to that it is the name I've offered those who ponder if I name my strings. It was born before I began to sing, in a half-remembered poem. These are the days from which our hope springs. I wondered, when I began to muse it, and before I first sang it, if others would think it an ill thought. How, after all, could these be the days of our hope?

Upon a path so wondrous time ran or stood still... / Wandered one despondent from ichor and ill...
There waited a figure of days not yet seen... / So the wanderer called out to be heard his pleas...
'Show me the days from which all hope springs... / Surely a future when all will know peace...'
The other reached out and pointed him true... / Said, 'Ancient, your weariness pains me to see...'
'I'll show you the days from which my hope springs... / I'll show you the time that most heartens me...'
The man stood astonished, stood silent and still... / For he saw not the future but the world that he knew...
The other said, 'Ancient, do you see what I do? / Not kingdoms, not golden, not bright a land through...
In my years we honor the memory of your now... / Your courage, your promise, your peace 'tween the frays...
In darkness like fire surviving a storm... / In fire like shadows that wouldn't be felled...
These are the days from which our hope springs... / Told in ballads and songs worthy of queens...
Dear ancient, this sorrow shan't always be...
Your sorrow is fleeting - and from this our hope springs...

Recently, I have formed an agreement of sorts, which I think perhaps lends thought to my thoughts of this song. I find my strongest inspiration, strongest curiosity, in the strength and courage of those history holds dear. Or has near forgotten. I simply hope I hold well my end of the bargain.

This song was first sung in Myna's temple, to two friends who've been wonderful to me in my journey of musing. And my past ordeal. An ordeal now half-passed to Myna.
I hope Syn's words prove true. I hope she is well and happy.

In recent turns, the Remnants held a Ball of dragons - so many faces, beloved and familiar. Donning costumes imaginative, no matter how simple. It was my deepest contentment to share my cycle's practice with the strings and bring music to the hall and celebration of my dear friends. Perhaps therein lies my only regret of it, as well - a fair few, including my Thren, were unfortunately late to the bright occasion.

But Thren and I did have our chance to dance.
We are not bonded. We simply...are.
That simple. So when she came to the near emptied hall, I offered a dance, and our own ball of dragons.

I enjoy nothing more than to sing under the stars, for those I love.

Jest was my days. A wandering to Kilican with Threnody that may or may not have ruined market of Ethucan cuisine for a turn. Merry chatter of friends on the island.

But, there are reasons I haven't sung this song in cycles. And doubt I will again. Some things are better left forgotten.

Woke a marc before the dawn... / To see an old friend passing by...
Well if we've met it won't surprise... / I went along to meet and smile...
Isn't quite how things turned out... / Nay - wasn't what I said at all!
Aye my friend, sorry can't say! / Here's a wagged tail and yap of good day!
Got kicked out on Kilican! / Howled a new song to the wind!
Another friend passed me by... / Course barely knew it was I!
Stick in the river - sorry my friend... / Pup's not quite learned just how to swim!
Aye my friend, go fall in... / Here's a wagged tail and yap of good day!
Made a friend in Dundee Inn... / Chased old Furfuz 'round the bend...
You may say it's nothing true... / Here's a wagged tail and yapped greet for you to believe!

No one told me what would happen when I went to temple. I had no idea of anything that might happen there, any rituals, traditions...nothing. When I was asked to kneel, I assumed tradition. I didn't know any better, and certainly had yet to realize the fault in my rash choices. I should have taken the warnings I received there. The unnecessary kneeling.
The so-called nickname.

I return now, after time to my thoughts.
What is a dog? That question has followed me since I first paid a visit to Dundee Inn after my assuming of profession, and realized the connection. What is a dog? For a time, it represented what I was and what I was to become: a follower. Little more. It wouldn't be until the near future that I...

Do you roll over and hope they'll scratch your belly?
She threw a book at me. Words, spoken in anger, but gods do I wish I had listened. Hope has its blind spots. Hope that...
It wasn't really a they. Sometimes I don't even know if it was anything but an it, a...
I need another respite.

What is a dog? Avedis said it is loyalty, kindness, and the like. The word he emphasized was obedience, and we both know why. It was also the only trait he disregarded.

But I abandon the subject. Jest - my first song of joy, turned into the song I sometimes wish not to recall. It was first sung for Venteli's crowds, and later I would sing it as friends and I sought to wash the blood and gouges from the Branishor temple - the very same day I first covered my ailing eyes. Before Scooter was taken.

I was nearer blind that night, and my eyes covered. Threnody, Ayla, Nefere, a scattering of faces I can't recall, though their voices echo in my dreams sometimes. A chilled voice speaking into the night, and Scooter vanished by the time I'd torn away my bandages.

Visiting your kin?
A playfully asked question. I adored Scooter as much as anyone did. Does. Loyalty. Kindness. Companionship. Warmth. Love. Hope.

I knew writing of this song would be difficult. More than memories of insult, more than memories of Scooter, it dredges up memories of weakness and fear profound.

Your words mean nothing to me.
I wish I had listened. Hard to listen, when you're being thrown over the edge of a dock. But that was perhaps the only truth I should have needed.
I had gone to him for advice. Another hint in a long series of hints I ought've taken, since merely a cycle later the advice was forgotten seemingly by all but me.

These are memories I would forsake to the page.

May there be many jests, but not of these things. Here's a wagged tail. Let's rest in warmth, and leave the ills to the fell-shadows.

Respite was my thoughts. When Viviyana first asked a favor in return for her own unusual favor, I truly suspected I'd end up with my head in a gremlin nest, or something nearest that. I had formerly written poems I'd shared with her - ill-advisedly during raids, like the idiot initiate I was. It came to be that she asked me to recite one of them on a calm night in the Dundee Inn, but to my distress - and hers - I quickly came to find that I'd lost the pages upon which I'd written them.

It just so happened that I recalled some words of a lullaby my brother once sang to me, and in interest of delivering where my friend expected, I spun these into a patchwork song which I would later refine and sing for Venteli's crowds, including the not-yet-beloved members of my guild family.

Here's for our fears... / To sing our sorrow away...
Find peace from our battles.... / A fond home to stay...
Forget now dark ponderings... / Split marc for our dreams...
Find love 'way from anger... / Find light when dusk creeps...
Here's for our fears... / To sing our sorrows away...
Find rest for our weary... / Find clean where we've bled...
Forsake now dark furies... / Split marc for our kin...
Find tales from our memory... / Find songs to pretend...
Here's for our fears... / To sing our sorrows away...
Here's for our fears... / To sing our victory chants...
In that trial of ages...
To find hope from within...

It seems now that those were simpler days. I'd not yet experienced my blindness, nor its accompanying nightmares. I had not yet hushed the words, "my Thren", though so easily do they come these days. Even if their first uttering was a silly stumbling of words. Greetings, my friend, Thren. Greetings, my Thren. Anyone could make that mistake, surely?

Here's to my fears, that my sorrows have ceased. May I practice now the healing I would only ever wish to offer.