Dear Father

[Mizbiz]

*a small table, a tiny light that flickers in the wind a canvas sheet does not stop*

Dear Father,

The worst day of my century and a half of life, a day of loss. The war ended, a time for living...so quickly snuffed out by dying. Tarrent, my sword brother, my first friend was cut down by orcs.

Our commrade Zuna brought me the news, her ebony skin, lashed with blood, she had lived, Tarrent had died. Of course he would have wanted her to live, he would have wanted to know that his blood had purchased somethng. Of the two of us, Zuna was the strong one, the survivor, I looked into her eyes and saw her death.

I agreed to help her tell Tala, Tarrent's lady. There is a tree in Shadowdale village that people like to gather near. We found many people there. Goombay the wizard, Quillia, Khyssoun leaning on his bow, Meri talking to another hin I had seen in combat before, Durgan who was Tarrent's good friend. We shared our grim news. Before the shock wore off, Tala walked up. Zuna told her boldy, and without ornamentation.

"Tarrent is dead".

Tala swayed on her feet. I looked into her eyes and I saw her death.

An outcry went up from his friends, his lady, to find his body, to recover what they could. Since they could not have him in life, to have what death had left behind. Then chaos... the hin with the hammer spoke of the violations the orcs had already more than likely already inflicted on Tarrent. The blow struck, the blow answered. To my shame, in trying to prevent bloodshed...I shoved. Tala's spear flashed, a spell was cast.

Goombay and I rushed to appologize, to explain. Too little, too late.

Tala and Zuna had rushed off, seeking an end. The rest of us struggling to catch up, to stop the needless sacrifice. They found the orcs. A hasty plan.."take out any casters". Before the words were more than breath they charged. The orcs began falling. There was a skeleton, with a blade longer than one of the People. I tried to turn it. Nothing. I tried to slash it. Nothing. I tried to run, and was cut down.

"No!" I thought. "I am not dead yet!" Tarrent would not have wanted this. He made me swear not to die for him. That he would die first, and go meet Helm, his god of duty. A brothers duty to his sister. I felt my blood pooling, my life ebbing, it felt like drowning...but it was Khyssoun pouring a potion down my gasping throat. I woke to fresh sorrow. Zuna lay dead next to the body of the orc chieftain. We had recovered one friend's corpse only to create another.

The long walk back. Tala and Khyssoun, burdened with the bodies of our fallen making better time than the others...the party split, half lost. Recriminations and saddness. Guilt and anguish. Those were our lot as we entered Shadowdale again, our burdens doubled.

That night, I lost everything I had come to care about. Friendship, respect, the care of one who had brought laughter back to me in a time tears, the home that might have been mine here. I hear again the words shouted loudly in anger...

"Laking patience"

"Playing the hero"

"Fool"

"Failure"

"A disgrace to your race"

You have heard this things said about me before, Father. You said them. You who have always woven your words into poetry and song, the night you used them to weave my shroud and cast me out.

Khyssoun's voice rose to defend me, he stood up to people without fear, for I could not. The trade speak is still as slippery as the sea. I felt small, ignorant, the nothing you made me feel. My heart and feet turned to lead. I would have fled anywhere, but I couldn't.

A stranger called me away, I did not know her name. Her words cut through some of my self loathing.

"Only when Corellon Laerthian no longer answers you will you be a failure. Let him be your judge".

I have come from fresh from again losing all...almost all...that I care about. I may have lost my friends, respect, laughter and home...but I still have the most important thing. I still have my faith, Father.

I am not dead yet.

[wvincenti]

*flips open the front page of the IC Times*

*sighs sadly*

I love catching up, but days like that are rough.
Thanks for writing it up so well Miz.

-Bill

[Inwintersshadow]

Well done Miz!

[danielmn]

[Mizbiz]

*writing from a snug little room by candlelight*

Dear Father,

It's been a while since I've written to you, I know. I wanted to wait until I had better news. Some of this may suprise you, I know some of it suprises me. By keeping hold of my faith, I have found much I thought I had lost.

First, I have found a home.

It's in a small village called Emerald Springs, settled primarily by refugees of other conflicts in the Cormanthyr. Mostly the villagers are of our own People, though there are a few humans. I have been given a room of my own in the shrine to the Seladrine here by Delawyn, the Guardian. I am actually writing to you from my own desk. A representative of the village council gave me the Emerald Springs gate key. I look at these keys, to room and village, and I see not only that which unlocks things, I see the trust that they represent. Looking at them now, my eyes fill with tears.

Secondly, I have found purpose.

The People seek me out, they ask my advice on spiritual and temporal matters. The Clerics of Chauntea have asked my help in some matters. You lived among humans, Father, so you will know who Chauntea is. If Angharradh has any ally among the human gods, it is she. In all things of this sort, I speak and act for the Coronal. Beyond their need, I feel their respect, both for me and the First of the Seladrine.

Thirdly, I have found laughter.

In our acrimonious parting, in leaving the Isle, in the war, in losing kin and friends to the next life...I had forgotten how to. I have a lover who jests much, and claims to most he know to not have a care in the world beyond filling his wineskin and his belly. To me however, Khyssoun speaks softly at times. When he does, we find much in common. I share not only his laughter, but his pain. Together we find balance.

Last, I have found friendship.

It took time and humility on my part. You Father, being so proud would most likely have not admitted you had done anything wrong...I did. I did from the moment I erred. The very people who though ill of me, are now among my dearest friends. The love I bear for all my friends is sweetend by their forgiveness.

As I read over these lines, I am struck by the things that prayer, patience and doing Corellon Laerthians work have regained for me. Things that were not apparent until I thought twice.

Trust, respect, balance, and forgiveness.

Someday Father, someday....

*leaving the letter unfinished, she folds it, kisses it, and tucks it into her desk drawer*

[Misty]

nice!

[Inwintersshadow]

I do hope a few of these end up in the writing contest. Great work Miz!