Memories of past events become reinforced from time to time. The anniversary of a joyful happening brings that event back to mind in crystal clarity. We recall the what, and the when - along with who was there, the words spoken, and all the allied emotions of the event's significance.

Unfortunately, the same also holds true for the anniversary of other, not-so-pleasant things that have occurred. If only there were some way to wash these less welcome memories away ...

A few things I've heard recently.


Wine is contaminated by the feet of the people who produce it.
Lemonade will stop you from growing.
Ale makes you forget things.

These points were mentioned during a conversation at the Dundee Inn. One of those present was a cleric who stated that he doesn't spend all his time insulting warriors, and that he's equally happy to do the same to members of all professions! It was, of course, all meant in jest and taken as such. Such a shame there are some who would make a similar comment but not in jest.



'You often seem to be lonely. But remember you need not be alone.'

A message given with some provisions, after I was tracked down in the dark depths of the N'Rolav tomb. I'm grateful for the supplies - I usually forget such things when I go hunting. And even more grateful for the heartening words.



During my recent roaming I heard somebody sing. The song itself is wonderful, the singing was quite passable. But it left me feeling heartbroken, for it described so closely the feelings for, and thoughts about, my lady.

Something ... I must do something, I know. Something other, I mean, than brooding while I stalk dark and twisted areas of Valorn and slaughter every creature I come across. But it's difficult to know just what to do for someone, to try and put something right when you don't know what's wrong. So I read what I see when the birds arrive, and watch in vain for those that don't.

Two nights ago, when Azure left after a chat to go on patrol, I stayed in the tower for a while. I'd told the Knight that I intended to rest. Instead, I left the roses I'd brought, and left in something of a hurry.

I know the path well by now, that path I've trodden so frequently of late to what once was such a gloomy place. Brighttree seems a more fitting name now ...
I didn't stop to rest on the way there. I needed to know how the project was progressing. I looked around, spoke briefly with a couple of people, then headed straight back to the hall. I missed seeing many that I usually speak with, as they'd all gone to rest by the time I returned, but even so, my heart felt somewhat lighter.
The work is done, the plans completed. I can only hope that what I've wrought will bring some light into my lady's darkness, will ease some at least of whatever burdens her right now.
I left a garland of flowers in the tower, and went to my rest with a heart less heavy than it has been.