1355 Mirtul 20,

My attentiveness to this little book has been lacking of late. Not for lack of things to record, but for lack of will and time to sit down. Well, time I had plenty, but of the right sort. There's definitely a lot to record, but the words to do so elude me. None the less, I ought try.

Since the day Mendel elected to appoint me as leader of the refugee mission, things have changed. It changed for the better, for me at least. For eversince the Seldarine bestowed their gift on me, I found my loss of prowess and knowledge and skill disconcerting. By Sehanine, everything else was and is exactly as I'd dreamed, but that feeling of helplessness, as people around me fought and protected others, protected me? It did not do my confidence much good - not that being so short did.

And so it was in the hardships of battle, a expedition I was assigned because everyone expected it to be an easy one - just a little voyage out to a fishing village. But like how the Bitch's fury can befall tiny harmless fishing ships, so were we befallen by the combined fury of the fiendish warband. We lost people - fifteen souls who now dance with the Seldarine in Arvandor, or perhaps have already chosen to be reborn. People keep telling me, were it not for my leadership, were it not for the combined skill and panache of my rag-tag little band of elven warriors of Shaer, of Natariel, of Deleniel, of Eamrae, of myself, it would have been a massacre. And at first I had denied it, for it was Corellon who has manifested his azure flame - for he must have intervened. But I did go out of cover, I did taunt the warband to strike at me and not my kin. I know not what came over me at that moment, perhaps it was how the Protector intervened. Eversince I'd lost my dragon blood, I thought I would never be able to take such risks, that with my goals fulfilled, I had finally lost the spark of adventure.

In that duel, of three cornugons versus me, I found my courage once more and cut them down where they stood. In the battles and skirmishes against devils that followed, I was once more a Dacino worthy of her name. I ducked and danced, I cut and skewered, I avoided their magics with the superior talent our People are born with - and we won. I was injured in that fighting, but nothing a bit of magic couldn't heal, and it taught me lot.

It prepared me for what I was not prepared. What I would never be prepared for. The siege of Red Keep. Now, it is true that in the moment, in the moment I was ready and able. For as one gives themselves to the Seldarine, to their Duty to their people, their thoughts become secondary. It was terrifying, yet I pressed on. It was painful - not for wounds I suffered, but for seeing my kin fall so easily, in such terrifying manner.

I have never felt like this on the battlefield before. I'm a veteran of wars - the Blight War, the Black Orc Wars, Triel. They affected me, true - but none affected me so deep. Mendel told me it's part of being an elf, that through our connection, our fears and hopes, our terrors and joys can be felt ever so slightly. This ever so slightly seems to be an understatement when so many of my People feel them at once. When so many of my people make their final cries of anguish.

When it was all over, when the day was won - I couldn't even cry. I just sat, and stared ahead. Then I cried. For bloody days I cried. I tried to present a strong face to my kin, when they saw me - for it's part of my Duty to inspire. But when I sat alone, watching why I fought - the children, the defenceless ones, I couldn't hold it back.

Sometime during this period I was convinced to attend a festival. There I forgot my plights a while, and even sang a song about storms and being ready for them. Then people sang songs of romance. It had used to be I could bear Soora's absence readily, but perhaps seeing so much death had weakened my resolve for the future. I had to leave.

This was apparently noted by others. And I also kept seeing my old self and Soora in Laeria and Tialysana even more than before. So much so they had to comment about my happiness, or lack the thereof. It was a difficult choice, but I chose to agree with them. I went to the temple of Seldarine, and prayed - I prayed the night away, I gave myself wholly to Angharradh's guideance in such matters.

Everyone deserves freedom, after all. Soora and I will meet again, of this I am sure. When? This I am not sure. But one day, surely. Lass is a true Erevanite, a manifestation of freedom and joy, of the casting down of stuffy traditions. She will understand. She too deserves freedom, while our duties have our enstranged, and the happiness that freedom bestows. I know not what will happen when we meet again, and our freedom would find conflict. I pray nothing bad. Perhaps even matters Derick and Tialysana jest about so slightly might happen. Vendor also said she will understand. And Vendor knew both her and I very well.

And so it would seem Hanali answered. I've no idea how, or why - but a stuffy old wizard seems to be her answer. Well, not old, and not stuffy either. But definitely a wild departure from my previous dances. Ar'ri - a lass much unlike Soora, except more crass and wild, more a sailor, less a lady. Camille - a proper sailor's woman, with so many curses and profane words on her tongue even that cursed Kalma Hellstorm would have found himself lacking. Valge - a untamed one, a druid. Soora - a wild and free lass.. And now, this wizard? A refined gentleman, with a strong and admirable sense of duty. I'd danced previously with lads before, but it was not with such interest, with such curiosity. It was all but a port's dalliance. And definitely never with one so refined as a wizard.

One thing is constant - everyone I danced with was older than me. I wonder if my tale will ever reach Nedrin - or perhaps I can keep this history a secret. Might be better if I did. There's nothing to gain by telling, but so much to lose. I've got Tialysana and Laeria now to help in questions stemming from it. And at least the Misty Forest had, scarred and battered as it is, will return to its old glory too. Perhaps I too shall return to the infamous loquacious and mirthful sailor I was once known as. Shame that Viridiana is not around to see me finally recover from being a moping mess.