So, here we are again. I did not expect that I should be writing again so soon. I cannot sit there and plaster on a smile and keep my composure after the last three days or so. Taala was the one who broke the news to me, So eaten up I was with regards to Rannie's dissappearance on my recent business trip the news hit me hard.
Hardoleth, the man I considered almost as a father to me though I never told him, was dead. How can this have happened? I feel numb as I write the words. I rode for the Dawnhall earlier after a quick pint in the Prancing Pony as my mind would not settle. Everywhere I looked there seemed to be a smiling face, someone telling a joke, making merry as one tends to in an Inn. But tonight, No. I could not stomach it. I could not put on the face folks would expect of me. Could not risk conversation as instantly they would pick up straight-away that something was wrong and ask me why, I have no time to indulge the questionings of simple folk this day. I regarded that hall as I arrived well before time. The first I had ever seen it. Perhaps if I had taken him up on his offer to join the Dawn all that time ago I would be a different man now.
Oaths, ever do they bind a man. I would never swear myself to a company for my spirit seems to dictate that I ride free, unbound. For so long trapped at the age of the eighteen to a fate I never willed the shackles were off and I was free. The tedious expectation of a Lord, even a regent as I was to my little brother. To suffer too many fools, offer counsel and govern. But I sit there and contemplate my rejection of his offer and think to myself so long ago of the mead halls of my birth. The comradery, the laughter, the ale and the mead flowing and the strong feeling of belonging I used to have as a boy. Gone, forever. Though I have had fleeting glimpses since. No, there is nothing but suffering to derive from these connections Seaver. You work the best when you are a lone wolf.
Gemon he selesecgas He remembers hall-warriors
ond sincþege, and the giving of treasure
hu hine on geoguðe How in youth his lord (gold-friend)
his goldwine accustomed him
wenede to wiste. to the feasting.
Wyn eal gedreas! All the joy has died!
I cannot help but sit here and feel the strongest empathy for Taala, parted from her father for so long I do not need to imagine how she is feeling. I know. Only a short while did she get to know the man before he shuffled off his mortal coil, leaving her alone. With regrets that she did not have time to get to know the man. Such a fiery girl, she gets my blood going certainly. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do to lay with her that night. She is insatiable. It doesn't take much but we always seem to end up in bed together at some point or another, I have a thing for red-heads apparently. But she is a wayward one, she tells me of her exploits boldly, crassly. She has no shame. I do not judge her, how can I? For if I am not in the brothels in Beggar's Alley I am bedding whomsoever pleases me I meet in the taverns. We did both shed tears for Hardoleth that night. It has been ever in-grained in me by my own father's example not to show too much emotion and I grew angry with myself.
I sat overlooking the lake in Towerglan and thought of the man who had passed, So like my father. My mind naturally drew parallels between them. How they each both lived their lives, only for them to be cut so short at a similar age. Both men had considerable reputations but no matter how many foes they had vanquished the manner of their deaths was laughable. Darkness was clouding my thoughts once more leaving me unable to think, the fates are cruel to me. Often have I sat and pondered on whether they were simply playing a cruel trick. At least Hardoleth died proud, my father was a shadow of himself in his later days and I blamed myself for his passing for a long time, he was broken. Some men and women are beyond saving, it took an awful time for me to learn that lesson. The circumstances of Siward's later years as well as his wife will ever be my secret to bear. He deserves to be remembered not for the monster Eacanwyn twisted him into being. But the man I knew as a boy. Hard, yes. A womanising rogue, that man sired more bastards than I could begin to think of. Just like someone else I knew. Who knows how many brothers and sisters I have out there. But he was good to his friends, I always remember his words. Treat the men under your command as though they are brothers and they will always have your back. He was firm, but fair. And a more loyal Captain the Mark could not have wished for, even if it meant speaking out when the King was wrong and taking action to defend the realm even when he was forbade by traitors. But this is not a euology to my father.
Hardoleth, you were a bastard aye, you were a rogue. But you were always honest about it. We had our philosophical differences in the past and I could not help but disagree with some of the things you did. Though my moral code is probably not as stringent as it used to be. Perhaps, I thought they were too harsh. But we drank, we joked, we exchanged riddles in those days in Combe and we always had a mutual respect. There was a certain blunt honesty to you which was quite likeable even if you drew my dissapproval. We drifted apart in later days but ever am I wary still of those who offer brotherhood. I was right to be. You bastard, just like my real father before he died you made a promise you could not keep. We were supposed to go drinking and whoring, reminisce about old times. And now instead I sit and look over your grave. We joked the last time we spoke that it seems to be only these bloody long-winded tedious ceremonies nowadays that we cross paths, and now this is how I am expected to say my farewells? It went on too bloody long.
I suspect Neyaa, and possibly Taala might question my choice not to speak but I have never been one for these things, usually I only attend these things for the food and ale to keep up appearances. But I could not suffer the wake. I left, saddling up Glaedwine to be the first to leave and depart for my village retreat in Blackwall, it is such a peaceful settlement, bustling as my grounds may be with the guards I have hired to watch over the cargo charged with me due to business.
I will put my pen down for this night, I think it is nigh on time for an extended journey. I like that freedom, to be able to simply mount up and hit the road whenever should I please, the wind in my hair and the plod of hooves at my feet. For right now, I feel empty. I need to get away, re-energise, for if I stay here there will be nothing but the bottle for me and I do not want to sink back into that and the attention it brings. I do not need those who would probably consider me closer than I them, well-meaning as they may be to comfort me. No, I must tread this road alone with my guards, perhaps bring Kriea along to drive the cart. But I will try not to speak of grave matters. I am sure I can idle along a few weeks and spend them talking about something of nothing or even ride in silence if need be, she doesn't seem to mind. She doesn't pry, I like that. As I said earlier I cannot put on the pretence I do of feeling fine but with her it does not matter. Others chirp questions off at me by the hundred. I would offer Taala a one-off job but it would not be proper I think with Kriea along. As much as I enjoy her. I do not think Kriea has any expectations of me but if she knew the true extent of my casual affairs I think it might put her off. I am as fond of her as I am Taala and others albeit in different ways.
I suppose I should conclude and deliver the surprise I mentioned I would to Taala some time back in Aemalia since I rescued her from ill treatment in a brothel. I felt myself responsible for her even before I knew she was Hardoleth's bastard. Why, you ask, will be a tale I choose to tell in later days or not. For I have done many things that I am not proud of. Why, you ask, will be a tale I may or may not choose to tell. Taala will be pleased at first but they couldn't be anything but alike. I will take what Hardoleth bid me seriously and watch over them if I am around.
So as I finish my writing this eve, I will not waste ink speaking of any more ill matters. This will still not get the better of me. I will not probe into the shadowy depths of my subconscious, I will simply say this. Here's to the open road and wherever it may bring, I will ship some cargo for my contacts in Staddle and head out towards the Shire at the end of the week. From there on out? Who knows, the Blue Mountains might even call. We shall see how I feel, the Lynx furs I delivered to the furrier sold well and gave me a tidy profit. It will be business yes, but more pleasure this time as I have no urgent need for coin. Dernwynn was understanding enough about my choice not to deliver to Trestlebridge given the unfortunate coincidal with the funeral but I can be sure of her business next season. But here's hoping Rannie may be found and be safe by my return. Untill next time, my future curious readers. For I do not know how long it will be 'till my next entry.
