A Plain-covered Journal

[Uniskorne]

I have a lot of time on my hands...hand. I wonder why you feel compelled to put to paper your thoughts when you're unable to do anything else? Skully might have some long-worded reason why, but I'll just accept that it's what people do.

I think of everyone I've come into contact with since arriving here. So short a time, but I feel like I've known a few folks forever. One of those is Alyra. Knight, Lady, commander, and friend--I truly know so little of her personally, but our common want of justice and light binds us. Sometimes I forget she's not much older than I am, such is her maturity and professionalism. The beautiful rare moments of seeing Alyra the Girl from the Dales have dazzled me. One moment, the expression that could melt steel and chase shadows turns into a radiant, mischievous smile that makes you want to chase rainbows and butterflies. Standing beside her, I have charged trolls without fear and discovered the marvelous wonder known as scones. So much could be said, and it would all fall short of what I'd really want to say.

MLM

[CloudDancing]

This really is an excellent rendering of Alyra.

[Uniskorne]

What most people don't realize about me is that I live in a world where most everyone and everything is smaller than me. I'm used to my knees hitting the undersides of tables and sleeves being too short. I'm used to gauging my handshakes and hugs and minding my elbows, lowering my voice, and everything else a self-conscious girl does.

Then, there's Brenna. Her world is the opposite of mine. She sleeps in a bed that held us both without us even getting close to each other and requires her to get in and out of using stacked books. I've watched her hold a tankard with both hands and barely manage while I absently threw back one of the same size with one hand. But, unlike me, she walks through this world like a force of Nature. She boldly enters rooms, elbowing knees and hips out of the way. She speaks firmly, loudly, making sure everyone hears her.

I have a bad habit which I'm ashamed of: I see anyone smaller than me as a child. I could try to excuse myself by saying that I have younger siblings all a little taller than 3 feet, but there is no excuse. The fact is, I've physically lifted or held Brenna like a small child several times, unthinkingly, and this is wrong. By all rights, she could stop being my friend because of the insult, but she remains one of my truest friends.

In this, my strange little gnome friend proves just how big she is.

MLM

[NESchampion]

((Full of laughter, Brenna Very nice.))

[Uniskorne]

Oh, Lorran. May I live long enough to have more regrets than you. For, now, you are my greatest regret. Whether it was fear, stupidity, or some perceived notion of common morality, I didn't love you like I should have. I could make excuses all day--you were a Sunite, and my anger towards another blinded me; I wanted to wait to be sure you wanted me out of love; I had my duty and training--but the truth remains that I just didn't realize I loved you. Not until you were gone.

How could I be so blind to my own heart? Did I think the blushing was just embarressment? Or my quickened heartbeat something other than a reaction to being close to you? I knew I wanted you--who wouldn't? You were...too perfect. I think that's what troubled me the most. How could this perfect man desire and love me? Slowly, very slowly, you made me realize that I was capable and deserving of love as a woman...something I had never even dreamt of. I was so used to the boys back home and their disinterest. They had grown up with me and still saw me as one of the boys, as hometown boys usually do. You were the first man to see me with different eyes...

And I missed it.

I will admit something, though, sweet Lorran, and it saddens me to do so: My heart aches less and less for you recently. I'm sorry. There will always be a part of me that loves and misses you, but...well, I take comfort in knowing you wouldn't want me to hurt. If you did send him to 'torment' me, thank you.

MLM

[Blindhamsterman]

very very cool artwork and journal entries! - I want to see Olaf next!

[thinkpig]

wow, nice work Uni!

[Lucifer]

Very nice thank you

[Uniskorne]

I wasn't there. I never got to see how you two were together. All we got was one letter saying how much in love you were, Kers, and that you planned to marry her...and her name was Sandala Hawkwinter. Momma commented on how that was a fancy name from Waterdeep. That's it. That's all we knew. One letter and a name.

Since coming here to Silverymoon, pieces of the puzzle have been slowly filled in for me. Large portions were filled by the Sunites in the Dawn Dancer. Yours was a classical romance--the ragtag knight and the beautiful priestess, drawn together by what could only be Love. And, yes, they say it with the capital 'L'. Two young lovers whose end is described as beautiful, honorable, bard-worthy, and 'the stuff of legends'. I learned enough of how you two died. I wanted to know how you lived.

Alyra and a few others--most recently a man named Jonathan--have given me small clues. But, ultimately, I believe the clues were there all the time. It's clear you loved each other. What else would drive my block-headed brother to become a Knight in Silver? What else would send a woman of perfume and satin into a sewer? But, you respected her, Kers. I know you--you would've done all you could to dissuade her from going into a place that was dangerous, dirty, and uncomfortable, and she had enough self-confidence to stand up to your charmingly old-fashioned attempt at chivalry and convince you to let her come along. That tells me that your love was based on something besides just mutual attraction.

I can imagine you shyly offering half-limp wildflowers to her and blushing from her. I can imagine her reading poetry while you brush her hair (you were always so good at that). Ultimately, I can imagine that none of this has stopped...no, I /believe/ none of this has stopped. Love like yours would know no boundaries.

(I hope I got her right, Kers. All I have to go on is the cameo in the locket at the Dancer.)

MLM

[kid]

You make me feel things.

I hate you.

[Uniskorne]

Daddy once said, "If a man's faced with impossible odds, and he's grinning, you need to watch that man--he's going to tear someone up soon."

Cinnamon Mae once cooed that there was something highly attractive about a man with confidence.

If they were right, then Mister Olaf is the most attractive, the most dangerous man in the Marches. I've never seen him lose his composure. I've watched, quite recently, as huge monsters and undead bore down on him, and he merely flicked spells at them, obliterating them almost instantly. Then, he turned and cracked a joke, grinning.

I don't know if it's because of this that Mister Olaf is one of the few 'smallfolk' that I don't see as such. He looms, and, to me, at least, he represents what every man should strive to be: helpful, honest, loyal, loving, modest, and responsible. I feel honored when I'm allowed to fight beside him, and, in some way, he serves as a surrogate father to me. Besides Alyra, his opinion of me means the most.

I'm reminded of something else Daddy used to say: "We're all rocks and dirt, darling--some of us are boulders, some of us /have/ boulders."

I'll leave it at that.

MLM

[ravin]

awww Olaf's so Cute!!

[Blindhamsterman]

epic!

[CloudDancing]

Omg...aaaa...Olaf is so adorable. Also the picture of Sandala and Kers is very memorable.

[Uniskorne]

I know I'm strange. I also know I'm too trusting. Maybe too nice. I might be a little too accepting of things, too. But, sometimes, it's not bad being 'too'.

I can only imagine what type of life Mister Slate has had. You wake up in the morning, make sure your hair and clothes are acceptable, and, usually, leave with confidence that the rest of you will keep up somehow. In a day's time, how often do you think about your nose? Or your ears? Probably, if you're like me, you don't. Sometimes, I forget I'm covered in freckles. I don't think Mister Slate forgets his scars. I can tell by how he carries himself that they, metaphorically, weigh on him constantly.

This is where I might be too accepting. I see nothing wrong with the scars past the obvious pain they must've caused him once. I wonder why a healer couldn't have spared him the pain, but, when I look at Mister Slate, his face reminds me of two things--a great weathered oak and my Grandfather. Mister Slate is nowhere near as old as my Grandfather, but my Grandfather was on the wrong end of an angry horse in his youth and bears the result to this day. I've never seen his scars as ugly. The same goes for Mister Slate's scars. To me, the scars of both men speak volumes of their strength of body and spirit.

Cinnamon Mae married a farrier, and he, like many shapers of metal, was fond of telling everyone how only good metal makes it through the fire. With that line of thinking, maybe physical beauty is an imperfection, and it takes something like what Mister Slate or my Grandfather went through for us to see the true beauty within.

Like I said, I know I'm strange, but, sometimes, I wonder if I'm not right, also.

MLM