So much has happened. The weeks that I have spent in this strange, rustic land of mixed cultures have been colored by a pallet of emotions that I can hardly express on parchment. I have felt so much in the short time that I have been here that I barely seem to be able to recognize who I am anymore. Who am I, truly? A tactless young man who thirsts so dearly for glory and adventure? Or am I something more?
When I left my homelands, blade in one hand and sister in another, I could barely go for a few seconds without thinking of my mother and father, sitting in our small house. I can still remember the feeling of the fur carpets tickling my feet as I warmed my hands by the fireplace, the talk and laughter of the traders wafting in through the thin-panned windows... How quaint that after all these years that I've been away that I can still sit and smile as I picture the faces from my past.
And yet, here I sit, under this old oak tree that marks my little camp, seeing those faces float by again. I see them still. My mother, my father, my sister... Even the son of the family who lived next to us in Lake-Town, who I used to talk to and wrestle with. And yet, here I still sit, seeing new faces flying by like dust on the wind.
The first is Horse-lord who accepted me when I first arrived. Truth be told, I enjoy her company quite a bit, though I would never actually tell her that. She's very unpredictable, even going so far to get this nickname of “Lake-Boy” for me. Ah well... She's a valiant warrior who manages to stand up to even MY standards. And even though we bicker often enough... She's been there for me when I needed her.
Next would likely be Annsuel... The woman who introduced the concept of mercenary work to me. She's an... interesting person, to say the least. Barely ever makes her presence known until someone spots her. Her past seems to haunt her almost as much as mine does for me, yet I know barely anything about it. I /do/ know that she's not a light drinker, and managed to keep up with me in a drinking contest (even though I won.) We're on a job together right now, and frankly? I feel better with her watching my back.
Mayrin... Probably the most troubled soul that I have ever met. She's been beaten so brutally that I can barely look at her without feeling pain. I can't believe that bringing a poor, injured woman a small flask of ale led to such an odd relationship. She continues to behave horribly, committing horrors that any would condemn her for, yet I still care for her as a close friend. She'd never admit it, but I believe that she thinks of me as a friend as well. I must look after her... After all, if I don't, who will?
Then finally... Catilyn. By the gods, how did we ever get to where we are now? I must admit, when I first met you... I absolutely hated you. To my first glance, you were uptight and, to be truthful, rather annoying. “The doctor said no ale for Mayrin!” You always said. Looking back on it, sometimes I wonder if I kept bringing her ale to spite you, not just to help her. But... Over the last few months, I've seen a side of you that I never really could have predicted. You're strong and kind, and I don't know where I'd be if not for you. You've saved my ass on more than one occasion, and I truly appreciate it.
There are so many more people who should be inscribed on these pages. Fiontann, Basaran, Geirdrifa, Hofgaer, Nellye. Gods, if I could only write each and every one of them and how they improved my life. Yet, alas, my hand grows tired, and my writing grows more and more messy. I think that is enough scribing for one day.
