Impressions - The Journal of Ehver

[Ehver]

Ehver smiled in that vaguely pleasant manner of hers that meant almost nothing at all - a simple placeholder to keep any lesser, more unpleasant expressions off her face until she should have use for them. Her hands rested on her tiny hips as her oddly mismatched gaze traveled slowly and leisurely around the area just outside Isinhold's Inn. A plethora of people were about - the usual elves standing in the corner, whom she would likely avoid, and the humans leaning against their fence or congregating around the tree right next to it. A man sat at the table, a book perched in his lap and the little hin named Rigrin dashed about as busily as usual. Another elf sat near the rock off in the corner where Elve could usually be found, but this day it was not him.

She continued smiling as she watched the sight, a distantly thoughtful expression sneaking across her eyes and putting a thin film of absentness on her expression, as if she weren't exactly conscious. The fact that her dwarf, whom she lovingly called Mister Grump, was not around pulled at her heart, causing her shoulders to stiffen - but only so barely as to be practically indiscernible, unless on is looking particularly carefully at her shoulders for some reason or another.

So this is where the road has taken me. A small, run down little hovel of a town named Isinhold which, for some odd reason or another, is the central gathering place for adventurers who seem to have nothing better to do with their time but sit around and snigger at each other. Not that she was one to complain - she sat around and sniggered at everyone else just as much as they did. But she wasn't an adventurer - a 'wanderer' - she called herself Eand so she had an excuse. With a soft chuckle as she acknowledged her own tricky hypocrisy she meandered slowly over to the river and her accustomed place on the bridge that spanned it. After a moment of gazing at the sluggish movement of the water below, her mismatched gaze staring idly into her shimmering reflection, she settled down. Folding her legs comfortably beneath her and rummaging in her pouches, she removed a quill, an ink bottle Ewhich she set to her side, and a medium sized, leather bound book. She flipped it open, casually ignoring the first chunk of pages that had already been filled in with various details from her previous travels, before coming to Isinhold. She had about four other books similar to this, all filled with a random mash up of the things she had found interesting at the time she had been writing.

"Mmmmn, this is gonna be hard," she mumbled to herself, chewing on her bottom lip before dipping the quill into the ink bottle. Two weeks of not writing, and so much has happened that I gotta catch up on.EWith something of a half-sigh, half-chuckle, she pressed the quill to the page.

---

It has been nearly two weeks since I last wrote, and my situation has changed drastically since then. I am no longer on the road - in fact, I am quite settled in a small little town right now - and I have mysteriously lost track of my dwarf. I have seen neither hide nor hair of Mister Grump since coming to Isinhold (Isinhold is where I'm staying) and I begin to fear that he has either abandoned me altogether, or is dead, lying in some ditch somewhere. Both thoughts are rather unpleasant - but until a body shows up, I will continue expecting his eventual return. I absolutely refuse to believe I have been abandoned by my long time companion. What else do I have without him, after all?

Well, there is the basic background of my situation. I am utterly unwilling to continue my travels until my dwarf returns, so for the time being I am staying in Isinhold, as I stated before. Isinhold is a small place, composed of a variety of small, wooden buildings spread out across a network of dirt roads. The town in itself isn't all that interesting, but it is at least easy to get acquainted with Eand there are quite a variety of people with which to talk. Which will be, of course, the crux of my entire entry.

So now, because it has been too long since my last entry for me to recall everything, I will simply make a list of people, what they are like, and how I met them. And perhaps a couple events that stick out in my mind more clearly. So here we go:

Clarke Flat-Broke, aka Mister Corn
- - - (First I will note that Flat-Broke is not his real last name, but I can't recall it - or perhaps he never told it to me - so that's what I'm using.) The one thing that really sticks out about Mister Corn is his hat. It's one of those things that looks kind of like a pirate's hat, with a wide rim and a giant plume sticking out of one side. I believe that was why I started talking to him in the first place, but I can't quite recall. He's a pleasant enough fellow, though I have my reservations about him. He is a womanizer, and I have the feeling his is involved in some shady business, though I can't imagine of what sort. Still, I am working diligently towards becoming his 'best friend'. . .for he is interesting and fun to talk with. As for his nickname, Mister Corn, I cannot recall why I gave it to him. I think it had something to do with a fake name that sounded like the crop: corn. Well anyway, he's the pleasant sort, like I said, and I enjoy being around him. He makes me worry sometimes though. . .

Warrick, aka Prince Charming
- - - This man is stunning! On my second day in Isinhold I nearly got a pick axe shoved through my head by some smelly old dwarf who was trying to mug me for what little gold I had my hands on. He appeared out of nowhere and saved me - when I told a bard the story later on, she told me that we were 'destined' to be togetherEand that he was my Prince Charming. That is how he got his nickname, for one. However. . .Mister Warrick is already in love with another girl named Kori-something, so he can't really be my Prince Charming. He is a little tense and quiet and a bit shy, but he is a good person and I respect him for his unselfish nature. He isn't really my type though, but I will strive to be a good friend to him anyway, because I believe he is a person who deserves support, and probably needs it as well. Sometimes he seems a little stressed and distant. I am his 'confident'now, or at least, I'm trying to be. He admitted to me he is in love with this girl of his, though he continually denies it to everyone else. I can't say why, because I'm certain everyone else already knows. . .but that is fine, I suppose.

Elvewyn, aka Mister Stubborn
- - - In short, this man is a ruthless murderer - or so people tell me. Apparently he is trying to turn over a new leaf and start life on the 'path of good' or some such nonsense. I don't know if his efforts are really honest, or if they will last long or even be successful, be he is an amusing fellow all the same, so I don't mind. He is confusing, however, and I have no desire to be alone with him. I do not think he would hesitate to kill me, if I annoyed him enough - upon our first meeting he even bruised my ankle when pushing me off the rock I was sitting on. But that is all fine, for I probably deserved it. Anyway, he is an interesting and curious person and I'd like to get to know more about him, if at all possible. Unfortunately he is friends with an elf girl I don't particularly care for. . .but then again, elves and females are about the two things I dislike most, aren't they?

Raenin, aka Mister Gentleman
- - - I cannot say much about him yet, because I have only spoken with him on two occasions. However, despite not knowing him all that well, I rather like him. He is gentlemanly, but I get the feeling that there are more than a few sarcastic remarks lurking under the surface of his pleasant facade, and he is clever and handsome as well. Out of all the men I have met and flirted with during my stay here in Isinhold - and I have flirted with many - he is one of the ones I like best. To future meetings!

?, aka Mister Bastard Sword
- - - A strange man. . .I will write more on him when I learn more.

Sil, aka Mister Window-Sil
- - - Another strange man, uptight and honest to a fault. He speaks dwarven, however, and so he is good in my book.

Lance , Mister Arrogant
- - - I have yet to call him Mister Arrogant to his face, but it is certainly a fitting nickname. He is an arrogant but powerful priest, who seems to enjoy flirting even more than I do, and loves to show off. I don't care for him all that much, but he is at least somewhat amusing.

Otherwise. . .

Otherwise I cannot really recall. I have certainly flirted with quite a few more men, but they all seem to blur together in my head - I suppose none of them were really all that interesting. Anyway, my stay here in Isinhold has been marked by the presence of many interesting people, and many equaling interesting events. I was nearly mugged by a dwarf, another dwarf presented me with a pile of gruesomely torn heads, I went on an adventure deep within the crypts, and I helped gather gold at a cockfighting game, as well. I do hope my dwarf comes back soon, but in the meantime I hope to get to know these people better, and perhaps meet many more. Isinhold, while small and rather nondescript, is filled with interesting people - too many to flirt with in such a short time.

I will say that the elves here have once again proven me right. I have absolutely no desire to be a part of the elven culture. They are arrogant and stuck up creatures, who rarely see past their own noses and who seem to believe that just because they live for a long time, they are better than every other race that walks the realm. They insult humans and hin and dwarves and orcs alike, and yet when their own blood is insulted, they jump into fits of rage. They are hypocritical and narrow minded, foolish and vain and disgusting creatures. They insult and degrade in their condescending tone, and then dare to tell me 'You are an elf, so start acting like one' - as if I actually want to. They act as if they are elegant and intelligent creatures, but their actions and words are dishonest and mean spirited. They are quick to get insulted and quick to insert their own opinions and beliefs where they are neither wanted nor needed. They live in their own little worlds, and look down on everyone else who is not of their own blood. . . They are disgusting, and it is a curse upon my existence to be born one of them.

But I will not get into the details of what happened with that little situation today, for it is not something I wish to bring up again. I will only say that the elves that I met, after a small, stupid, and easily avoided altercation acted in an immature and hateful manner, all the while singing the praises of the elven race. I have seen a thousand humans who have better manners than they did that day, and yet they refuse to acknowledge that they have faults of their own - that we are all mortal, and none of us are above the other. They even went so far as to threaten the life of my dear friend over one simple word Ea word that was well deserved, I might add - as well as to advise me to cut off my own ears if I didn't wish to be elven. I was not aware that ears were what made an elf an elf. . .but no matter, this is a subject I will not delve deeper into, as I said.

Other than this, I am trying to bring myself closer to and understand Clarke better. I feel that he is a person who understands me, and a person whom I could get along with well, if only I could bridge the gap between us. So I am working towards becoming his 'best friend' and the more time I spend with him, the more I see of his moods Emoods that seem to twist and turn in startling ways that I never quite expected. Such as when I commented on wanting a friend who could 'understand me' (meaning understand dwarven) and he suddenly dragged me out of the inn looking frustrated and angered and demanding to know what I meant. He seemed to think that I thought he didn't 'understand' him in the deeper sense - though I only actually meant when I spoke in the dwarven tongue. Then, when the cockfighting was in business, he seemed volatile and angry and quick and easy to whip up into sudden flurries of rage. Other times, like our few occasions in the inn in Redmist, he inexplicable goes silent, gazing thoughtfully into the fire as if something is on his mind that he is either unwilling or unable to share with me. Most of the time, however, he is cheerful and mischievous and fun. . .but the more I see of him, the more I want to know.

Mister Stubborn is along the same lines, though in a much different way. He is a curiosity to me that I cannot even begin to explain - so I believe I will endeavor to bring myself closer to him as well, if I can find the right path to do so. . .

My hand started to cramp up long ago. I think this entry is decent enough for the time being. From now on I will try to write more often, so that I can make my entries less expansive and more detailed. . .and hopefully a little shorter as well.

----

Ehver gazed down at the book for a long moment as she mulled her thoughts over Eher mind wandering over the oddities of Clarke's mood swings, and the strange and volatile personality of the apparently murderous elf, Elve. After a moment she chuckled under her breath, blowing on the ink and then snapping the book shut. She returned her various items to their places before rising to her feet, brushing her pants off and then running a hand through the tangled mop of hair atop her head.

I suppose things aren't so bad, she thought to herself dubiously as her mismatched gaze traveled around her immediate area with a distant expression. But I do hope my dwarf comes back soon. . .

[Ehver]

Stupid! That man is stupid stupid stupid stupid! Don't ask me WHAT is his problem because I cannot even begin to say, but whatever it is he should seriously stop taking it out on me! Something about that whole 'Flat-Broke' thing screwing his chances over to be recognized in history - as if that cockfight would put him in the history books anyway, that stupid idiot. Why in the world does it even matter about damnable history books anyway? Besides, that man was just a pompous, arrogant, wind-bagged idiot! Who cares? Sheesh! If I had known he would flip out over something as stupid as that damn name, I never woulda said anything! STUPID! I hope he goes and gets himself killed and dies in some ditch somewhere! Clarke FLAT-BROKE is a dimwitted idiot who doesn't have even a sliver of sense under that dumb old hat of his. If he doesn't make this outrage up to me soon, I think I'll strangle him myself! Damnable man. I hope he rots in hell.

---

The page seems to have been scrawled in a fit of rage, for unlike the previous entry, the handwriting is clumsy and disorderly. Parts of the sentences slur together or break apart in odd places, and whole sections are entirely illegible. On the previous entry, however, the name 'Flat-Broke' is scribbled out.

[Ehver]

I did not meet him when he committed all those terrible crimes, so why should I judge him for something he is trying to atone for? Why is it always necessary to pick sides - to choose between 'good' and 'evil'? These people have once again miscalculated who I am, what that means. I travel with a dwarf who worships the God of destruction, an angry being who enjoys nothing more than watching the crumbling of civilization itself. That is the man I travel with - the man whom I would sacrifice my life for without a second thought. If I travel with such a man, no one can truly expect me to walk the straight-laced path of 'good' can they?

In and of myself, I have committed no 'evil' acts - unless one considers running from my debts an evil act. Of my own being, I have not murdered innocents in cold blood, or purposefully destroyed the life of another for my own gain. But does it bother me when I hear that other people commit such crimes? No. There will always be good in the world, and there will always be evil. Where ever there is light, a shadow is cast. This fight between good and evil is an endless cycle, that continues on and on and on - and I want no part of it. As long as those who are 'evil' do not harm me, do not get in my way, I have no quarrel with them. As long as those who are 'good' do not force their beliefs upon me, I am perfectly happy to be friends.

Warrick is furious with me, because I do not shun Elve's presence. I know Elve is a dangerous man - a frightening person with a cruel and selfish heart who cares nothing for the sufferings of others, and perhaps even enjoys it. I know Elve has committed many horrible acts in the past, things that I cannot even dream of, no doubt. But he claims to be trying to change. . .and I have witnessed no evil acts. He pushed me off a boulder once, but other than that, he only threatens - and words are harmless.

Elve is a man that at this time I cannot even begin to understand. It is clear that he has many faults - faults that are not all evil, and faults that are very evil. These things I can see, though I do not know their details, nor why they are the way they are. But he has done nothing to harm me - he has even promised his protection, has told me that if any of our elven kin should lay a hand on me, he will deal with them himself. I do not know why - I imagine he has some selfish purpose behind his actions - but I am thankful for the promise of aide all the same. He has threatened Clarke on multiple occasions, but never once has he actually harmed him. So what am I to do?

I do not know if Elve is speaking the truth when he says he desires to change, but I do know that since stating said desire, he has killed -no one-. I specifically asked Warrick: 'who has he killed since his decision to change?' and Warrick could name no one. Whether his desire to change is faked or not makes no difference - until he kills another person, I must assume that he is telling the truth. And if he is telling the truth, I have no reason to abandon him.

My dwarf worships a God who relishes in destruction. Even Raenin worships a Goddess of evil origins. These people I do not hate - so why should I hate Elve? I will say this, however: there is a line. Once that line is crossed, I will no longer tolerate him. He has already crossed that line for many other people, but he has yet to cross it with me. When he does - and only when he does - I will give up on him.

Warrick is furious with me. But what can I do? I love my dwarf more than I love any other creature in all the realms, and he is no 'good' person. I would stand by him no matter what act of evil he committed. Many would say that this makes me evil myself, for those who tolerate evil are evil themselves. Well. . .that is fine. If people must look on me as evil, then that is their own choice. I would not abandon my friendship with my dwarf for anything in else in the world.

I truly hope Elve is trying to change. The more enemies he makes, the more troublesome it is for me. We are not friends -Warrick seems to believe we are, but we are not. He is nothing but a mere acquaintance. . .but who can say how things will change in the future?

Other than this, I spent a good deal of time with Raenin today. We took 'flirting' to a level I have never gone with any other before. That is not to say anything serious happened, of course, but it was certainly different. He is an interesting man with a curious past, and I enjoy his company very much. We talked of many things, and teased and played and joked. He says that I am the best company he has ever had - though I must admit he was a tad bit drunk at the time. Heh. . .Well, we'll see how things go in the future.

. . .for some reason, I am truly missing Clarke. I wish he was around - I wish he wasn't mad at me. To get into a fight over something as idiotically stupid as that. . .and there is no way for me to apologize, because he will accept nothing from me. If I could, I would make it up to him - I would make it up to him a thousand times over. . .but I do not think he will let me, so I fear I will have to wait for him. And he is damnable stubborn. So what am I to do? My dwarf is gone, disappeared or dead, and Clarke, my 'best friend' currently hates my guts. On top of that Warrick thinks I should pretend Elve doesn't exist, even though Elve is promising his protection.

I didn't expect things to get so suddenly dramatic, so soon after coming here. I have never stayed in one place for long, and I am entirely unused to actually getting to -know- people. Normally I simply blow through a city or town, flirting with everyone I come across and then brushing away, always moving down the road. These experiences are new to me, and more troubling than I ever thought they could be.

Clarke? Elve? Warrick? Even Raenin.

. . .What is it you want from me?

---

The entry is long and written carefully, the handwriting smooth and pristine, as if she desired to keep it crisp and clear so she could return to read it later. At the bottom, in smaller, more cramped handwriting, a small passage is written.

---

Warrick has asked me to try and change my dearest companion, who follows the path of Talos - as Warrick himself apparently did, once. He has told me that it is a form of kindness, to do so. Truthfully, I care little for Talos and I would gladly see my dear friend step from such a path. . .but he has given me much in all these years, and I cannot bring myself to ask him to change. However, if there is a way, I would gladly do so.

[Ehver]

The more I see of Warrick the more I realize just what a good person he is - what a good friend he is. He is sweet and kind and generous, though a little dense at times. He does not have the quick wit of the elf named Teneas, nor the exciting, reckless personality of Clarke, but he is charming in his own way. I enjoy his company more and more as time goes by, despite our differences in lifestyles. . .our differences in views.

I find it amusing that he is in love with this Korista girl (whom I call Kori-what's-her-name just to bother him. Heh.). Today, in Isinhold, I got my first real chance to see her and him together. Not that I haven't seen them together before, but I had never really paid attention before, for one. He introduced us, and then I left them be, wandering over to a strange man whom I have nicknamed Mister Tinker, for he is apparently an aspiring inventor. While I was pretending to listen to him and looking over the various odds and ends that were falling all over the place, I listened to Warrick and Korista speak to each other.

I must say, it was one of the dullest conversations I have ever heard. In fact, it seemed rather -awkward- to me, as if they didn't quite know what to say to one another. Mind you, they might be completely different in private - so I really can't judge, but to me they seemed like a rather dull couple. They went off with a group of other adventurers to bash some heads in, and from what I heard from Warrick later, that was about -all- they did. Ah well, there's no accounting for a man's taste, is there? And perhaps she is a good deal more charming than I had the luck to see.

I mentioned the elf named Teneas before. I just met him today, and I must admit that he is quite an amusing man - a quick and witty tongue, that one has. Apparently he once followed the path I follow now - an elf refusing his heritage, and paying no homage to any singular God. He has gotten off that path, however, and now walks the same path as our beloved kinfolk. I suppose he thinks that one day I will do the same - he seemed to imply such - but I am not so confident. Well, he was interesting enough, I have to say, and I enjoyed his company, but we follow different paths. I think I shall nickname him Old Man.

Other than this, there was more trouble with Elve and Ara. I think it was most foolish for me to defend him against Warrick, as I did the other day, because all of my efforts blew up in face in less than a day afterwards. That brat, Ara, needs to keep her nose out of other people's business. Once again she has butted in where she does not belong, and made a mess of things. To explain in short, Elve is currently certain that I want him dead - which I most obviously do not. But, perhaps this misunderstanding is for the better. . .because of it, I have decided that I will no longer involve myself with him. No longer will I have to face the wrath of my friends for putting up with him. This is not to say that I think he is 'evil' or any such thing - it is only to say that I will let him walk the path of redemption without my help, and hope that one day he reaches the end. Other than that, I will try to have as little to do with him as possible.

As for that girl, Ara. . .she is a blight on these realms. She is arrogant and rash and quick to urge for the spilling of blood over petty, trivial things. She is condescending and stupid, demanding and foolish. I do not know what any of her friends see in her, for while she is probably older than I am, she acts more like a spoiled brat than I ever have. She wants me dead, and has threatened me on many occasions - though I cannot even begin to say what I have done to deserve such venomous hatred. She speaks of elves as if they are better creatures, but she acts a thousand times worse than most humans I have ever met. That girl needs a muzzle and a leash - and decent tree to be tied to, and someone to give her a couple meals each day. Her actions are pathetic, but unfortunately I am no adventurer, and I have no doubt she could beat me in a fight easily, if she took her mind to it.

Ah well, for every good person you meet, there are three fops following behind. And she is an arse above all other arses. I suppose if I just keep out of her and Elve's way, she will leave me be and I will not have to deal with the skull shattering headache that is her presence.

Other than this. . .I have not seen Clarke since our last argument, and neither have I seen or heard word of my dwarf. I begin to despair for him. . .but whatever life brings my way, I trust that he will return.

[Ehver]

I didn't realize exactly how stressed I was until the weight was lifted from my shoulders and I suddenly felt much lighter than I had been in the last couple days. Clarke showed up today - a little pale, a little tired, but otherwise alive and well. . .and he apologized for how he treated me that day, and I apologized for how I treated him. . .and then everything went on smoothly from there, as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

I think of all the people I have met in Isinhold up till now, Clarke is by far my favorite. With him I feel comfortable and at ease, and we can talk and joke and laugh together smoothly. He is a fun and reckless person, always up to something exciting, always with something to say or something to do. He can even be kind at times, and caring. He has his faults, obviously, but these are things I can accept - I have my own share of faults as well, after all.

Today he told me of his women troubles, which are all rather predictable and highly amusing, while at the same time being a little irritating. He seems to be sleeping with a girl who cares about nothing but sex and doesn't even mind if he takes another partner. At the same time, he is itching for a paladin girl named Zoriya. And while all this is happening, he somehow happened to hell his little sex kitten that he's in 'love with her' - which, upon looking back on it, he has realized he is not. Apparently his little bed toy is of the 'unsavory' nature as well, though I have no clue who she might be. So all the while that he is sleeping with this girl, making her think that he's in love with her, he's harboring feelings for some God-smitten paladin who is apparently 'sweet' and 'kind' and like 'no other woman'. And of course there is this priestess of Sharess hanging around, pecking him on the cheek and doing I don't know what else.

All in all, he seems a little lost as to what he wants. He's not sure if he's just running around for the fun of it, or if he actually longs for 'love'. Beyond this, he told me of his past - how he ended up coming to Isinhold. It is a sad story of love and betrayal, the sort of thing one might hear in a bard's song. It has also given me another reason to hate my crafty and dishonest kinfolk, who smile on the outside and plot on the inside. His companion and mentor - an elf named Othel - through a strange twist of fate ended up taking the girl that Clarke fell in love with. She was an elven woman, a dancer who had been sold by her father in order to pay off his debts. Clarke fell in love with her, and eventually scrapped every last bit of his gold together to pay off her debts and set her free. He was then going to go to her father and ask for her hand in marriage. . .

But this elf, whom he had been travelling with, had other plans. Elves and humans do not marry, obviously - for that ruins the 'bloodline' among other things. Othel, who was elven, went to the girl's father ahead of Clarke and told the man that it was -he- who had paid off her debt, and asked in return for her hand in marriage. The girl's father - seeing that he was elven as well as a successful merchant, accepted.

Clarke does not know if they actually got married, or if something else happened. After that the elf named Othel hired a group of thugs to box him away, shipping him off to Isinhold, where he is now. He has never returned to find the fate of the woman he loved, and ever since then he seems to have refused to fall in love again, and absolutely will not get involved with elves.

Well. . .in a way I am grateful for the events of his past. If he had married the girl and lived with her happily in Luskan, I would never have met the Clarke I know and enjoy today. Still, I would like nothing more than strangling that man - Othel - with my own bare hands. It is just one more reason, on top of so many others, for me to despise my elven kin.

Speaking of elven kin, there was some small trouble with Elve today, in Isinhold. He cast a spell on Clarke for no apparent reason, causing the man to go temporarily deaf. He then lied, and said that some other planar creature had opened a rift completely out of the blue and cast the spell instead of him. This was obviously foolishness, but there was nothing that could be done for it. That man. . .but I will not think about that.

I asked Warrick what he sees in that Korista girl. He says that she has been a bit down lately, but that she is normally a fiery and passionate person. I do not see it myself, but I do not see her that often, and I certainly do not speak to her.

Well, all in all the day has been a good one. I am relieved to see Clarke return, and to be on good terms with him once again. From now on. . .I will try to be a much better 'best friend' to him from now on.

Still no sign of my dwarf.

[Ehver]

I've finally identified that odd, strangling sensation in my chest. It's something that I remember feeling only once before, though in an entirely different manner. Just after my mother died, all those years ago, I remember feeling as if my chest were being crushed - as if their was an endless expanse of -world- unfolding all around me - unfamiliar and lonely and large. I feel much the same way now, only in the exact opposite direction.

I guess when I was younger I was so used to living in a confined box that when my mother died and I was no longer restrained by the need to care for her, I had no idea what to do with myself. After my years travelling with my dwarf - constantly moving from one town to another, on and on and on, inexorably - I think I got used to that sense of endless expanse, of a world that seemed to go on forever. Now that I am in Isinhold I feel as if the world is boxing in on me - as if large, unbreakable walls are rising up all around my consciousness, my world, and cutting me off from the freedom I knew previously. Before, no matter where I was, I could do anything I wanted, act any way I wanted, and not have to worry about it. . .always knowing that the next day, or perhaps the day after that, I would be gone again, walking down the road to our next destination. In Isinhold, however, I have no road to walk away from. . .not unless I chose to abandon my dwarf, that is.

And so it seems that my entire existence has collapsed inwards on me - no longer the vast, impossibly large expanse I had known before. Now all of my actions have consequences, because now I know that in the morning I will be waking up in the same place, with the same people. It is the oddest feeling, though I suppose most other people are used to it. It is a feeling that I tossed away when I took up with my dwarf all those years ago, a feeling that is only vaguely remembered from a distant childhood.

I suppose, in truth, that my 'childhood' wasn't actually all that long ago. Only a matter of a handful of years - and yet it seems like an eternity to me, as if those years were lived by someone else who only looks like me. That lifestyle was so different from how I live with my dwarf that it no longer feels like those memories belong to me. I suppose that might be one of the reasons why the troubles of my past never really bothered me - because they feel so impersonal.

But those feelings are coming back now, now that I have no where to go. Here I am forced to think about my actions, and how they will effect the days that follow. Here, the friendships I make are important, for they will not be lost with the rising of the sun - here as well, the enemies that I make may come back to haunt me, for they will know where to find me.

It is an unpleasant feeling, this feeling of a world that is small and stuffy, where each person affects the person next to them in ways I only recall from years ago. How nice it was, those days when nothing I did really mattered. It has only been two weeks in Isinhold, and yet already I begin to see the consequences of my careless way of life - Ara's continuous threats, my attachment to Clarke and Warrick and having to face up to the angers and disappointments of my friends. Never before did I have to answer to anyone but my dwarf - never before did I have to think of someone beyond myself.

I spent much of the night yesterday - not long after writing my previous entry - thinking about this. I was thinking about the way I had felt so relieved after Clarke forgave me, and of his conversation with me about his past. I was wondering why his forgiveness was so important to me at the time, and I was also pondering the troubles of his past, and what he might face in the future as well. It made me think that life is small, composed of memories and people and places all packed close together in one's mind. For me my memories have always been loosely connected, flowing together and blurring into one another in one continuous stream of thought. In a way, I think I would describe my mind as liquid - connected but loose and shapeless - while the minds of others seem more solid. . .packed tightly together in a life that has sequence and meaning.

Sounds rather deep, doesn's it? I don's act it, but I must say, I think I'm rather smart. Either that or I've just gotten better at writing. It is the most amusing thing to look back on my earlier journals, and all the thoughts written in them - in my first journal it's little more than scribbled lists of events that hardly seem connected at all. I don't think anyone to read this would think that I was the one to write it - but years and years of writing one's thoughts down, and eventually you get somewhat proficient at it, yes? Perhaps I should become a writer. . .Yes! I think that will be my next goal. List of goals:

1.) Mix magic and archery.
2.) Get better at the violin.
3.) Write something good.

A man in a city we passed once told me that it is good to set definable goals, especially when you are on the road a lot, with no destination in mind. He says it helps give a person a 'sense of self' as well as a 'focal point' in life. I suppose that makes sense, because if you are constantly wandering with no where to go in mind, you end up losing bits and pieces of yourself. Without my goals, and especially without my dwarf, who would I be? Just some nameless person wandering from town to town? A nobody, a faceless person in a crowd of faceless people?

Interesting - is that why people become adventurers? To make a name for themselves? Or more likely to put a face to their name, so they are no longer one identical grain of sand in the desert? Clarke got so worked up over having his name being put down as 'Flat-Broke' in the history books. . .because that was his 'chance at fame', his chance at being remembered. Humans live such short, fleeting lives. . .I suppose it makes sense that they fight tooth and nail for a place in the books, so that years and years and years down the road they can still be remembered - not just another nobody, like so many others. I suppose elves aren't really like that, are they? Well, I don't know about other elves, but I know that I have never worried about the history books. Living as long as we elves do, I guess it just feels like there's -plenty- of time.

I once met an elf on the road who carried a harp on his back and sang songs for coppers. My dwarf didn't care to hear a word of it, but I had a bit of coin on me so I asked him to play a song. He played something called 'The Winding Road'. It was a long song about travelling, and detailed the adventures of a variety of different characters - an elven warrior, a dwarven adventurer, a hin wanderer, a human paladin and an orc mercenary. It was about the roads that each of these characters followed, something of a metaphor for the life and times of the different races. In the beginning it sang about all of them, but by the end only the elf was left.

Well anyway, enough of all these complicated musings - I've got something more substantial to talk about, and here it is:

I'm feeling a little bad for Warrick - just a tad. When I was considering how I was boxed in, and how all of my actions now have consequences, I realized that I might be being a little unfair to him. Teasing him as I do, and flirting with him as I do. . .is a little unfair to him and Korista. Personally, I don't care much for Korista - I don't care much for women in general - but he is in love with her, isn't he? And he is a good friend to me. . .perhaps I should not toy with him as I do. I don't think it is really causing much harm, and I seriously doubt he would ever give in to my proddings and flirtations, but still. . .There are times where I know that he is uncomfortable, and I know that I should stop, but I keep going. Always that mentality that in the morning it will no longer matter.

The same goes for Raenin. Perhaps I should cut back with him as well - I would hate to mislead him. I told Clarke about how Raenin got drunk, how he was hanging all over me, and kissing me on the cheek and telling me how I was the absolute best. I didn't think much of it - he was drunk after all - but Clarke seemed to think otherwise, and was entirely stunned that I would brush it off as if it were nothing. 'You go through all of that and you just want to stay -friends-?' he asked me, as if that were something horrific to him. Well, I've never really had to deal with this sort of thing before - so excuse me if I don't know all the details of flirting and 'courting'or whatever else comes with it.

So perhaps now is the time to cut back on all my teasing? . . .I don't even know how I would manage it. It just comes so naturally. Heh - what a horrible thing to say.

. . .

I've been trying to ignore the absence of my dwarf very hard, lately. It feels like my heart is too large for my chest - pressing out on my ribs - every time I think about him and the possibility that he might be gone for good. I have to keep reminding myself that it's only been two weeks, even though it seems like forever, and that he's bound to show up sooner or later. Two weeks isn't an eternity - I think when it has been a month, I will allow myself to -truly- worry. . .but until then, I suppose I'll just continue as things are, even if that means trying not to think about him.

Two weeks isn't very long. . .There is nothing to worry about just yet.

[Ehver]

I spoke to 'Miss' Aranel today - and I must say, I really do not care for that woman any more than I did before clearing things up. I asked her why she hated me, curious to know exactly what I had done to garner such venomous desire for my own demise. Well, she certainly didn't have a good reason. The gist of the conversation was that I caught her when she was in a bad mood - coupled with the fact that I am friends with Clarke, whom she despises for some reason I can't fathom, as I'm sure they don't have much to do with each other.

Well anyway, I was just curious. . .and my curiosity has been sated - she has no particularly good reason for wanting me dead. She told me that part of it was because I did not want to be elven, and seemed somewhat befuddled when I pointed out her attachment to Elve, whose own situation is. . .erm, less than savory to our elven kin. Hmph. I didn't really expect a good reason anyway.

Other than this I met up with Sil and went exploring into the crypts again, and I met an elf named. . .named. . .damn it! I've forgotten already. Hells - I was gonna make sure to remember, because he can speak dwarven! Ah well. . .if I see him again, I suppose I'll just have to ask again.

Anyway, I'm going to make today's entry short. I smell like dirt and dead things from our trip to the crypt, so I need to get cleaned up, and then I have to practice the violin more if I have any hope of getting rid of these darn blisters on my fingers. Perhaps I'll write again later.

[Ehver]

Ah, it was a smart plan and I'm glad I came up with it. Waiting for a month until I allowed myself to break down, that is. Mister Grump has finally returned. He showed up just as usual, pointing his finger at me and grumbling about how I 'wandered off' and how he's been looking for me all this time - hah! I stayed right where he left me. . .but he's a dwarf, so that sort of thing is to be expected, isn't it?

Well anyway, I'm relieved to finally have him back. It feels as if someone just took a boulder off my shoulder - once again I have my escape route open to me, and I have my good friend at my side. Things don't feel so closed in and boxed up any longer. The world has returned, sprawled all around me on every side.

Still, it looks like we'll be staying for a while. I'm glad to hear that. . .still so many things to do here in Isinhold, in Cormyr. I haven't written in a bit, so I had better catch up now:

I spent more time with Mister Tinker yesterday, and he has hired me as his 'assistant'. He's horridly clumsy, and needs someone who can work with him to stop him from blowing himself up during some experiment or another. I look forward to the job anyway. . .because he always has new and interesting things popping out of his mind, and I have a good deal of fondness for new and interesting things. Life is long. . .so very long. It's good to be reminded that there are always new things to see - new things to learn. I look forward to seeing what contraptions he comes up with, and what troubles he gets himself into. He's a sweet man. He gets wrapped up in his own world, it seems, and he's highly enthusiastic, but I find him amusing and interesting.

Met up with Clarke not that long ago, and had a good day with him. I find his company more and more pleasing as the days go by. We wandered off looking for a piano for Mister Tinker, but eventually got side tracked and ended up in a hin village. Outside the village was a pretty little forest with a small stream and a waterfall. We both got ourselves soaked, splashing around in the stream and tackling each other into the water and all that sort of stuff. Afterwards we sat on the edge, talking - I told him about my old friend Vars. . .the one who helped me make my violin, and who taught me to read and write and told me to keep my journals. We also spoke about Prince Charming. . .

Clarke is absolutely convinced that Warrick is one of the most boring people he's ever met, but I am absolutely convinced the other way around. I'll admit that he isn't as exciting or witty as Clarke himself is, but Warrick is not boring, either. In fact, I find Warrick quite interesting. . .and one of the most enjoyable people to spend my time with. Some things have happened with him recently that I should mention.

I have officially decided to stop teasing him as much as I normally do. I don't think I can entirely stop, but I can do a little at least - for instance, I have stopped calling him Prince Charming. . .to his face, at least. It seems to make him uncomfortable. But. . .But I’m starting to like him more and more. He's so sweet and kind. . .bashful and dense and gentle and so seemingly -innocent-. I'm not saying I'm in love with him or anything, not really. . .just that. . .

Well, I don't know. I just really enjoy his company. He took me out to Suzail and to Eveningstar and we went window shopping and we joked and it was fun and nice and simple. It wasn't exciting, but it was -comfortable-, a cozy, familiar feeling that makes one feel at home, and I like that feeling. With Clarke, it's different - with Clarke it's always a sort of rowdy cheerfulness, and playful banter. With Warrick it is always soft and slow and sweet. . .and maybe a little -warm-.

But I'm not saying I'm in love with him. Oh no, I'll never fall for a man who's already taken - that would be just begging for heartbreak and pain, and I don't want that. Besides, I'm happy with just my dwarf being back. I don't need anything more than that, not really. The life of the road and the friendship of my dwarf is good enough for me. Always and forever. That will be all I need for all my life.

Still, I do rather like him. There was some drama with Korista in Isinhold yesterday - apparently her abusive ex-fiance showed up again, having completely lost his memories and only knowing that he was sent back to 'make things right' or some such nonsense. Warrick was so wrapped up in that entire situation that he hardly ever spared a glance for me, and certainly didn't share a word. Not that I minded - my dwarf was with me, and we were having a rather amusing conversation. I informed him on the whole situation. . .and, of course, he commented on what trouble I am. He seems to think I'm trying to get between Warrick and Korista - as if I could. Heh. He's head over heels for her. I'll never see why but. . .well, it isn't any of my business. He can love who he wants.

Oh well. . .

I'm glad Keh'less has returned. Very glad.

[Ehver]

You’d think I would be satisfied with how things worked out. You’d think that anyway, but I suppose I’m not particularly surprised that I’m -not- satisfied. I thought I would be, before. And that was why I went through with it. Now, however, I’m sitting around more unsatisfied than I was before, trying to decide what I want to do about it.

‘I want us to just be friends’ is -not- something a man should say after confessing he has feeling for you and then taking you into his arms and kissing you gently on the forehead. ‘Just friends’ was not exactly what I was looking for when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him, his lips on my skin. ‘Just friends’ was not what I expected when he looked at me with that warm, understanding expression – when he stepped towards me and looked down at me.

I should be satisfied, however. It really was all a part of my plan – a way to sate my curiosity. I rather thought he had feelings for me, with the things Keh’less had said about him, and the way Clarke had hinted. I was curious and I wanted a way to find out if it was true – to find if Prince Charming had really fallen for me, even though he had a girl of his own. So this was what I did:

There is a small, abandoned house on the edge of town, near the caravan. He had taken me there before, giving me gifts he had found on his adventures, as well as selling me a wonderful bow for about twice as cheap as I could have found it elsewhere. He gave me for free some enchanted arrows, as well as a beautiful necklace that shimmers, even in the dark. It was something of an awkward meeting – I suppose because both of us were thinking that we were entirely alone, sitting on a bed in an abandoned house while he showered me with gifts. . .his girlfriend off somewhere else, doing who knows what. That was when I first formulated my plan of what I was going to do.

The next day I found him standing alone in Isinhold and I asked him if, whenever he wasn’t busy, I could talk to him in private. He agreed, of course, and we made our way once again to the little abandoned house. Once inside I told him to sit down and I made him promise that he would not speak a single word until I was done. It was truly a brilliant plan, I must say. . .and I have the most stunning acting skills you have ever seen.

I paced in front of him, looking befuddled and nervous and embarrassed. After a moment of him watching me in confusion, I apologized to him profusely. I let the words tumble out of my mouth – how sorry I was for making things awkward between us and how I really shouldn’t tease him and that it was unfair I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. And then I dealt the killing blow.

I told him that I had feelings for him – feelings more than just as friends. I was blushing, scuffling around sounding self-conscious and sweet and innocent. I told him that it wasn’t fair to him and his girl to push my feelings on him like that, and that I really would try to stop teasing him as much as I did and I apologized and apologized and apologized.

What man, if he truly has feelings for a woman, could stand to watch the girl he’s in love with apologize for ‘loving’ him back without saying something? No one, of course. He fell right into my hands, telling me how I shouldn’t be apologizing – how -he- was the one who should be apologizing. He confessed to me that he had feelings for me, and that he was sorry for being so unfair towards me. . .

And that was about where things got nasty for me. You see, the entire time I thought I was just satisfying my own curiosity. I thought it didn’t really matter what he thought at all. I thought I wouldn’t really care if he liked me or not – I thought I was just going in there, playing a game and pretending to be love struck and helpless. In a way, I really was pretending. I’m not head over heels in love with him, and my heart will and has survived with out him. . .but I’m not satisfied, and that bothers me, because I don’t know what to do about it.

He told me he wouldn’t leave Korista – I wasn’t asking him to leave Korista, really. I was just there to get him to admit his feelings if he had any. But when he took me in his arms and kissed me on the forehead, telling me that he just wanted us to be friends, I suddenly felt -mad-. Why would he touch me in such a tender manner, even though his words push me away? It made me angry. . .angry, because Clarke had said something to me earlier that suddenly struck home, and it occurred to me that I was being -used-.

Clarke and I are of the same opinion – that Korista is a boring girl. I was telling Clarke about something between me and Warrick, something I can’t quite recall right now, and he pointed out that maybe for Warrick, I was his excitement. He said that Korista was dull and maybe the reason why Warrick hung around me so much was because I was his ‘excitement’, his fun. I told Clarke that day the very same thing that I think today: ‘I don’t want to be his excitement. I don’t want to be his replacement just because his girlfriend is boring. That’s unfair to both of us. . .I don’t want him to come running to me so that I can dance around and amuse him, and then when he’s gotten his fill he dashes right on back to his girl. I don’t want to be a replacement for his own amusement.’

He made me -mad-. Is that all I am to him? He’s willing to flirt with me and play with me and tell me that he has feelings for me, and then he innocently backs up and says ‘but I love my girlfriend and I won’t leave her, I’m sorry’? He thinks that he can tug at my feelings, making me -believe- that he cares about me and that I might have a chance with him, and then he brushes it all away with a smile? He wants me to flirt with him – he practically told me so. He said he enjoyed it. I asked him what he wanted me to do now, after he confessed and then told me we could only be friends. I asked him how I should act. He told me that I should just be myself – that I shouldn’t change. I pointed out that being ‘myself’ inherently meant flirting, because that’s simply what I do. So what does he want from me? Am I just here for his excitement. . .so that when he gets bored of his girl he can come find me and then when he’s satisfied he can run back to her again? What am I supposed to do? Who am I to him?

It’s unfair. And it makes me mad. And it makes me unsatisfied. Part of me wants to hate him. Part of me wants to toss him aside and leave him and ignore him. Perhaps that’s what I should do – just abandon him, cut all ties with him. He can go on living happily with his girlfriend, and I can be free to do whatever I wish to do.

Another part of me wants to hurt him. Another part of me wants to ruin everything for him, to tear his life to pieces and scatter it to the winds.

And -another- part of me wants to fight, to keep going until I win. That part of me wants me to be charming and fun and sweet – to make him love me so much that he can’t stand it without me. To be as cunningly irresistible as I possibly can, and to take his heart for myself.

Aye, but. . .I absolutely hate women, and these are the sort of things that women do when put in situations like this. They get vindictive and strike out to make everyone around them miserable – so I will not do that. I won’t destroy his happiness just because I am irritated with his response. That would be turning myself in to the very thing I hate most. So should I try and steal him? Would I be becoming something I hate if I did that? Taking a man out from another woman’s nose doesn’t seem like the sort of thing I would normally do, but I haven’t normally liked anyone before. I’ve flirted with a thousand men, but when you live on the road you’re never around long enough to really get to -like- anyone.

Perhaps I should just leave things as they are and go with the flow. Clarke is of the opinion that I really don’t have to do anything – Clarke thinks that eventually he’ll come chasing after me. He says that with a man like that it won’t take any effort at all and soon he’ll be barking up my tree. It’s something of a depressing thought, really.

Well, I haven’t quite decided what to do yet, and more than just that has happened. . .so I should write about some other things now.

Firstly, Clarke has asked that if Mister Grump and I leave Isinhold we should take him with us. I was rather stunned by this question, because I’ve never really had a traveling companion besides my dwarf and I had never really thought about finding one either. I’m happy he asked though – it makes me feel good, that he cares enough to want to come with. He always tells me that he’s terrible with goodbyes. He is truly a good friend – I can’t quite understand why there are so many people that despise him here in Isinhold. I suppose he can be obnoxious, and probably doesn’t let many people near enough to get to know him but. . .he is a good person nonetheless. I hope for him always to find the greatest of happiness, and if I can ever be a part of helping him attain that, I will do my utmost best. Next to my dwarf, Clarke is the most important person to me right now.

Aye, and there is more too! A man named Edward, who is friends with Elve, has suddenly appeared in Isinhold. A charming, amusing man who scares the skin right off my flesh. In many ways he is another version of Elve – a man who has committed countless crimes of unspeakable horror who has, upon getting annoyed with being hated by all who meet him, decided to ‘turn over a new leaf’. In many ways he’s quite different as well. He is witty and fun and has a good deal more self-control than that bastard Elvewyn has, who hangs me from trees and throws me in rivers for no apparent reason. I do not know how I keep getting wrapped up in their like, truly. . .because they are intriguing and different, I suppose. These people who have walked a path through the deepest gloom – people who are powerful and feared. These are people who can do whatever they wish, whenever they wish – people who are surrounded by enemies and yet still come out on top. These are people who do not cringe from taking what they want, and who feel no fear because -they- are the ones who are feared. These are people that intrigue me. . .so different from myself, and from those who I have met in my journeys. They scare me. They frighten the very wits from my head sometimes. . .but at the same time I am always curious to learn more about them and part of me wants to be close to them. Part of me wants to stand under the shadow of their protection, looking out at the world through their eyes.

They are terrifyingly interesting people to me. I want to be near but at the same time I want to be as far away as possible. So generally I stand at a middle ground – never judging what they do or what they say, simply listening and absorbing and thinking. The middle ground is a dangerous place to stand, I think. Edward gave me a little golden statue today that he found on one of his adventures and told me a bit about how he is looking to change. Perhaps he’s telling the truth. Perhaps not. In the end it hardly makes a difference to me, as long as I don’t get caught up in the mess of it.

‘Evil’ has always been an intriguing way of life. I don’t think I’d ever have the courage to walk it as steadily and as far as Edward and Elvewyn walked it, or perhaps are still walking it. A small taste, a small sample of that lifestyle. . .would probably be good enough to satisfy me. But that is something one doesn’t just jump into out of curiosity, is it? And I have too many things working in the opposite direction right now for me to take a step along those lines.

I don’t really think Elvewyn and Edward are trying to change. In fact, I think they’re along much the same path as before – they are just smarter about it now, more discreet. They show no remorse for past actions, and they are quick to make and keep enemies. They associate with those that they know are up to no good – people who torture innocents with smiles on their faces. No, I don’t really think they’re trying to change.

But I don’t mind. . .I don’t mind at all if they’re lying to everyone around them. I don’t mind at all if they walk the same path as before. Everyone has their own road to follow – as long as it doesn’t cut through mind in some unpleasant fashion, I will be content. I’m just curious as all. Always curious.

I believe there is a saying somewhere, about curiosity being deadly.

[Ehver]

Ehver stood on the hill overlooking the town of Isinhold as she always did when she didn't want to be around other people. She pressed her cheek against the cool wood of her violin, her eyes closed and her fingers working across the strings. The sound that was emitted was slow and soft and sad - long and mournful, a tune that lingered in the air, settling heavily on the ground, as stifling and as beautiful as snow.

Her fast beating heart pounded against her ribs, pushing and pushing and pushing as if struggling to break free. Soon the song numbed her mind, however, slowing her angry thoughts, and with it her heart slowed as well. After a time she opened her eyes, watching the rhythm of her bow moving across the strings. Then her mismatched gaze shifted over the town.

She let the tune slow, eventually fading away unfinished, melting into silence as her nerves calmed. She stood staring in silence out over the town, her head cocked to the side and her hands limp, her fingers occasionally twitching as she stifled rising emotions. It had been a long, long day. . .

---

Things seem to be falling to pieces, when you look at them carelessly, but upon thinking closer, I realize that they actually aren't. I will admit that I learned today that curiosity is indeed a dangerous thing, however.

I can't write much, because most of it is better left unsaid, even in my private journal. I will say this, however: I am involved in something both pleasant and unpleasant by nature. I think, in the very least, it will be interesting. Something, somewhere has seen me and decided to force my hand. I am now walking the very path that I thought I would never walk, though not in exactly the same way as I imagined it. It is a terrifying road, but I have no choice, and part of me is eager to get to it.

Warrick and I are no longer friends. At all. I cut the ties completely. In my last entry I was considering what to do, but once again my hand was forced. He made me so damnably angry that I really couldn't handle it anymore. I really can't handle him anymore, that selfish bastard of a man who I care so much for. But perhaps I don't care for him as much as I thought, because it was surprisingly easy to toss his friendship back in his face. It hurt, but it was satisfying at the same time. In fact, his girl, Korista, was there when I did it.

I felt a little sorry for her. I don't care about her - don't care at all. . .but I have nothing again her, and I felt sorry for her and her predicament. It seemed best for all of us to cut things off. Warrick was miserable in his desire to protect me from the various events that were wrapping themselves around me. He got on his knees and begged me. He wanted to help so bad - I think his heart must have broken ten times over in that one night. But he has a girl, and that girl is not me. . .and it is better to let him go to her, than have him pining over me. And so, we are no longer friends. I walked up to him and told him so, with his girl right there.

Right now. . .right now I really, really, really want Keh'less and Clarke.

More things happened but. . .well, like I said, they are best left untouched.

[Ehver]

Well, it looks like things are like to change here in Isinhold as often as the wind shifts directions. In my last entry I vaguely described an incident that led to my cutting off my friendship with Warrick. Well, that was quickly enough tossed aside. The man apologized to me in Isinhold the next day, and it was decided we would be friends again. He took me to Suzail, and we wandered up this large tower to the very top, where we could look down at the town and all the people were as small as ants. He also took me to an island just outside Isinhold where there are berry bushes - though they were empty when we visited.

In truth Ifm still a little angry with him. A little annoyed with the situation in general. . .but itfs something Ifm slowly getting over. I still have feelings, but I suppose those will go away eventually as well. It is a little irksome to me, to have finally started to care for someone, and have my feelings turned aside. It is even more irksome because I know I could have succeeded. . .if only it wasnft for Korista. He fell in love with me. Hefs still in love with me. The only thing that ever really stood in our way, that continues to stand in our way, is Korista. Well, I wonft complain. Complaining only means that Ifm thinking about him. . .and he doesnft deserve my thoughts. He doesnft deserve to have me pining over him. Ifll get over the whole thing eventually, and all will be well.

Other then that, it is hard to say that much is going on, truthfully. I hope to see Clarke around sometime soon, but I assume he's busy in Suzail, whoring and gambling his life away as always. I haven't seen much of Edward either, though the man called Alex has been in Isinhold occasionally. . .and Elve is here now, talking to some elven lady who smiles to much and touches his hand sweetly. She isn't Aranel though. Aranel is only bad in that she is rash and stupid at times, this girl whom I do not know is annoying in that she has that sort of sweet, simpering manner about her that I absolutely cannot stand. It's that sort of soft quality that some women have where they step lightly and speak in quiet, gentle tones. I suppose some men have a taste for that sort of thing, but not I. . .not that I'm a man, of course.

I am rather curious as to what they're speaking about though. That elf girl is smiling like a maniac and it's starting to get on my nerves. I wonder sometimes. Doesn't Elve hate elves? And aren't elves supposed to hate him? Something about being an outcast, aye? Well, half the time it doesn't show, truthfully. He seems to hang around elves more than I do. Not that it particularly matters, I suppose. And Elve is a strange man anyway. Careless and rash and immature and obnoxious. If I am selfish, than he is a thousand times more self-centered than I. I wonder how Aranel is doing. . .for a girl who seems to have so little patience, I am stunned she can stomach him at all.

Anyway, I was trying to decide when I should be on my way. There isn't much left in Isinhold for me, after all - except this whole deal with Edward and all them.

And they're looking at me! They're looking at me while they whisper to each other. What the hell are they saying? Knowing Elve, it's nothing good. And not knowing the girl, I can assume it's nothing good there too.

Ugh. . .well, oh well. Anyway, as I was saying. . .there isn's much left to do in Isinhold. After the whole fiasco with Warrick, I'm not really sure if I even have the desire to stick around much longer. And Clarke has agreed to leave with me, so I really have no incentive to stick around for his sake. I was thinking of skipping out on all the drama whenever my dwarf showed up, but I'm not entirely sure. I feel like it would be a shame to leave too soon and then miss out on something big. And yet, there is an entire world out there that I have yet to explore. Cormyr is only a small part of it.

I've been saving up my money, anyway. Have a little more than 3000 lions now, which is decent, I suppose. I was thinking of buying myself a new violin, but I'm hesitant to part with my old one. I did make it myself, after all. . .with Vars. Perhaps I'll buy those bard gloves instead. Still, these things are so expensive. I'm rather reluctant to spend everything I've worked so hard to earn.

I -am- getting better at my spells, however. I've learned a few more - still relatively simple, but one must always learn to walk before they learn to run. My archery is getting better as well. It looks like I'm well on my way to mixing magic with archery - though I still have a good deal to go before I get there. I can travel into a few places on my own. . .such as the first floor of the crypt, the rats in the farm and in the cellar and the ruins east of Isinhold. All of these are my playgrounds.

Ah, and here comes Aranel. . .Looks like she's still involved with Elve then, even though he treats her worse than he would a pile of crap. He's practically ignoring her. What a horrid man he is. Like I've said a thousand times before, I have no love for that Aranel girl, but hells. . .there is a limit. Even -I- have to feel sorry for her a bit. Though perhaps he's the sweetest thing in private and simply cruel in public? I suppose that's possible. Men and their egos, after all. And that other woman is highly annoying and I haven't even spoken two words with her before. I am far too sensitve.

Well, I'm done writing for the day. Perhaps I'll get back to this later.

[Ehver]

What an interesting day! I must say, both Elvewyn and Edward are endless sources of amusement, and I spent a good deal of time with them today. . .as well as some time with Warrick as well, as usual. But that didn't turn out all to well - as usual. I blew up a little bit, my temper getting the better of me, and all. But I won't write of that, for it is a tiresome subject by now and seems to be a continual repetition.

Elvewyn broke up with Aranel. Or perhaps she broke up with him. Either way, the two of them are not together any longer and Elve doesn't seem to be particularly bothered by it at all. In fact, I couldn't really notice a difference. He seemed a little out of it at first - a tad bit antisocial, but that really isn't anything abnormal. After awhile he seemed to return to his normal self - or perhaps I was just too distracted by Edward to notice a difference. Truly a charming man, that one. And horridly handsome as well. They bother are - Ed and Elve. I hadn't really noticed to just what extent they are handsome until today. I guess it was sort of something I ignored before. But I saw Warrick half naked in the bath house, his muscled chest all soaking wet and. . .erm, well, after that I just started noticing, I spose.

All in all, it was a good day. My opinions of Elve and Ed are still exactly the same, but I do enjoy their company. Apparently they enjoy mine as well - even Elvewyn! He said a couple things today that truly startled me. Stuff about how he likes me and how I "brighten up a usually gray day" or some such. And when I mentioned leaving Cormyr to them, Edward said he'd make it worth my while to stay. Well, that wasn't unexpected, because he flirts a lot. But when -Elvewyn- said the same, that really gave me a start. He isn't so bad, truly, and he's certainly fun to mess with. But he is still obnoxious and rash and self-centered and all that other stuff. I don't know if he'll ever get past that.

Either way, I suppose I'm glad that I met them, and I'm glad I'm getting to know them better. There was an incident with plants and a portal today in Isinhold, but I can't really write about it much. . .just because I have no idea what was happening. It sort of just appeared and then went away. Odd, huh?

Ah yes, Edward also somehow found out about my situation with Warrick. I can't say how but. . .well, we'll see how it turns out. Anyway, I would write more but I'm rather tired right now so. . .

The end.

[Ehver]

My miserable heart is breaking. I've never felt anything like this before in my entire life, and I will do -anything- to make it go away. I can't stand it. . .it feels like my heart is trying to claw its way out of my body in the most creatively painful way it can think of. It doesn't help that I have a horrible headache and my entire body is exhausted and aching as well. I don't know what the hell to do and it hurts so damn -bad-.

He loves me! It's so obvious that he loves me. . .so very much. He even said that he wished we had met earlier, wished that we had met on the road with "no Ed and no Elve and...no...Korista". He said that! How can he do this to me, dangling such statements before my already broken heart and then getting up and leaving me - walking away, off to return to her arms even though he loves me. Doesn't he know how much it hurts me? Why can't he just be cold and cruel to me? Why can't he just ignore me, instead of smiling so sweetly, so sadly my way, with such longing in his eyes? Why does he have to torture me with the knowledge that he cares so deeply for me, and yet I can never have him? It's so unfair and it hurts so much!

It's always like this. . .always. That sense that we are so damn close to each other. . .that if we only reached out our hands, we could touch. But that damn woman is always standing there in the way and he -always- goes back to her. Even after the most tender moment he returns to her, wrapping his arms around her in the middle of Isinhold, stabbing me over and over and over again. What does he want from me? What did I do to deserve this? It's so damn annoying because there is absolutely nothing I can do! I can't forget about him because my heart is too damn stubborn about it, and I can't make him mine because he already belongs to her! So what am I supposed to do? Just sit around sulking, miserable and pathetic? What what what what?

Damn. . .I want Keh'less. And I want Clarke. Where the hell are they when I'm feeling miserable and lonely? Some best friends they are. . .

Heh. Perhaps I should just give myself to Edward, aye? Perhaps I should just throw myself at him like an idiot and let him have me. He wants me, apparently. . .that's what he says anyway. Not that I particularly trust that - hells, I'm sure he'd sleep around with any girl that looked his way. He's a charming man, handsome and cunning. I'm sure plenty of girls are looking to get at him, and I'm sure he'd let them, as well. But I could throw myself at him all the same. I could sell myself cheap and wait for him to cheat me so that I can be angry all over again, at someone different.

That's one of the few good things about Elvewyn. At least with him, there is no worrying. He is honest, for the most part. For all his faults, he is not a man who would sneak around and cheat. He is not a man who would betray. At least, that's what I think. I suppose I shouldn't say that. I suppose I don't know. But that's what I'd like to think, anyway.

Dammit! Dammit all! All of this stifling drama! Edward running off and having an affair with Luna, Alex's woman. . .Elvewyn and his suddenly claiming we are friends, and yet being so damnably confusing about the terms, making me not know what in hell I'm supposed to do to make him happy. Warrick and his damn Korista, who loves me and hurts me every time I see him.

What the hell did I do? What did I do to deserve this?

---

There are a few small smudge marks where a tear or two has fallen.

[Ehver]

Ehver smiled faintly, kicking her feet as she walked forward, her arms pillowed behind her head. She walked along the small dirt road that led into the heart of Isinhold, pausing at the crossroads and glancing around, her smile twisting into a satisfied grin. She spotted Elve, standing in his usual place at the rock, and next to him was Edward.

"'Lo, my handsome friends," she called sidling towards them with an enthusiastically cheerful expression. She leaned back with a grimace as she was met with two dark, scowling faces.

"So, hearing from Korista, it seems you've finally got your man," Edward remarked, his thick Thayan accent dark. She cocked her head to the side, shifting her mismatched gaze between him and Elve in confusion. Elve simply crossed his arms over his chest, his head tilted forward and his expression both angry and disappointed.

"Ah. . .Warrick? Well, yes, I suppose so," she murmured with a grimace, looking between the two of them. It seemed as if the entire world melted away around them, swirling gray mists pouring and curling around her ankles like living things.

"Too bad. . .and I actually thought we could be friends," Elve spoke at last. Ehver started, recoiling, her shoulders hunching as the two faces leered at her, suddenly seeming larger and more vicious than she could remember having seen them before.

"What are you talking about? We are friends. . .This changes nothing!" she cried, her voice sounding strained and high-pitched in her own ears.

"This changes everything. You know who he is. You know who we are." Edward's tall body loomed over her, seeming to grow taller and taller with each moment. His face was shrouded in darkness, his eyes glowing malignant red far above her.

"You've betrayed me. . .just as everyone else has. I should have known it." Elve's voice echoed from far away and suddenly she was falling backwards through the swirling mists. She screamed, but no sound escaped her lips - or perhaps she simply couldn't hear it, for the ringing in her ears.

She grunted as she hit something hard, her body curling up and her face twisting into a grimace. When she opened her eyes she found a hand extended towards her. She followed the hand up to the arm and then from there up to the face and smiled as she saw the bobbing hat characteristic of her beloved Clarke. She took the hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.

"Clumsy today, aren't we Miss Trouble?" he said with a chuckle, letting go of her and turning away. "Come along now, the road is waiting. It's time to leave Isinhold." She faltered, standing behind him motionless until he looked back at her, arching a brow and grinning.

"Leave? Why are we leaving?"

"Wasn't this always the plan?" he asked smoothly, turning slightly to face her. "You said we would leave together, didn't you? Best friends, traveling the roads, leaving this place and all its drama behind."

"Yes, but. . .things are different now," she murmured, shifting her weight from one foot to another uncomfortably as he watched her with a curious expression. "Now. . .now I have Warrick, too. I can't just -leave-."

His expression twisted down into a frown, his eyes narrowing as he stood before her. "So that's it then? You're abandoning me for that dull, boorish man who can't think of anything beyond the next fight? Is this what my friendship is worth to you?"

"No!"she cried, lurching forward. "You are. . .Clarke, you are important to me!"

"Then come." He held out a hand to her, already beginning to melt into the swirling gray mists. "Hesitate and it will be over. . ." he murmured, his voice growing distant.

"Clarke, I can't leave! Please, come back. . ." she moaned to him as he became a formless figure, fading away from her.

"Please. . ."

"Wot are ye 'pleasin' about, ya lazy arse?" Ehver blinked, lifting an arm to shield her eyes from the suddenly bright light. The sun was high in a brilliant blue sky, the light filtering between the shifting branches of the large oaks that shouldered the small dirt path she stood on. She looked around, slowly lowering her arm and glancing to her dwarf - her beloved dwarf.

"W-What?" she stammered, drawing back slightly, a confused expression slipping across her face.

"Wot you mean, 'wot'? Ye lost yer mind?" Keh'less asked, scowling slightly before stomping past her, down the road. She turned, standing motionless for a moment before her feet dragged her forward, falling into place beside him.

"Where are we?" she asked softly, lifting her gaze to the unfamiliar road and the trees that crowded around it. The scent all around her was fresh and crisp and birds chirped somewhere unseen in the woods.

"Where do ya think? The road," he responded gruffly, glancing up to her not unkindly. "Wot's wrong with ye, girl?" She lifted a hand to rub her forehead, frowning.

"I just had. . .the strangest dream." He scowled again, arching a thick brow at her and shifting the weight of his pack on his back.

"Wot about?"

"Ah. . ." She settled into a comfortable pace at his side, dropping her hand to the side and smiling faintly, her expression confused. "I can't seem to remember now. It's all a blur. Something about. . .Isinhold?"

"Isinhold? Haven't heard o' such a place. Jus'a dream," he replied with a shrug.

"Aye, seems so," she said with a chuckle, grinning crookedly down at him. "Glad about that, too. From what I recall of my dream, it seems like a mightily wicked place."

"Aye?"

"Mhm. Mightily wicked."
---

Ehver started awake as her hand thumped against the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, letting out a low groan before turning to the side and opening her eyes. A small fire flickered before her, slowly dying away into faintly glowing embers. She was spread out across a small couch, her head pillowed on one end and her legs dangling across the other. Her hand draped off the side of the couch, resting on the floor.

It took her a moment to shake the dream from her sleepy mind. Even as she stared at the dying fire she could see the road, lined with oak trees, her dwarf at her side. In the back of her mind she could also see the looming figures of Edward and Elvewyn, and the retreating outline of her dear friend, Clarke.

And at the root of it all? . . .Warrick.

She closed her eyes again, letting out a soft groan and rolling over so her face pressed into the cushions of the couch. The dream stood out clearly in her mind, standing side by side with the memories of the day.

Somehow, in some way, Warrick had left Korista. . .for -her-. He was hers now - oh, thank the Gods, he was hers. She had been so happy, so endlessly happy to have him as her own. To know that he wouldn't walk away from her, returning to the arms of another. The feel of his arms around her still lurked in her mind, the touch of his lips.

I've finally gotten what I want. . .so why does it feel like I'm facing insurmountable odds? Why do I feel like I'm on the verging of losing everything I fought so hard for? After all. . .it's not like my friends will abandon me because of this. Why would they? It's not like anything will change. . .I'll just have another man by my side. So why do I feel as if I've dug myself into a hole - a grave? Sheesh, you're so hard to satisfy, you idiot. Just be happy for what has happened. Just be happy. Everything will be just fine.

She closed her eyes again, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

After all. . .in Isinhold, nothing was ever 'just fine'.[/color]

[Ehver]

Ehver let her fingers run through the cracks of the old, leaning stone wall. Small piles of rubble scattered around her from where one side of the wall had fallen through completely, and from where the roof had tumbled down. She cocked her head to the side, picking her fingernails into the cracks and flicking out bits of rock and pebble. Her mismatched gaze – one eye a brilliant green, the other earthy brown – narrowed as her thoughts wandered away from her immediate surroundings.

This was Elvewyn’s hiding spot. She almost felt guilty for sneaking here, when he was not around. She almost felt as if she had somehow desecrated the place by standing within its crumbling walls and thinking of Warrick – Warrick, whom Elvewyn hated so furiously. She thought to herself that he would hate her, if he knew what she had done – if he knew what she was still doing. Her fingers brushed over the crumbling surface of the rock, her eyes gazing past it – at a shadowed face that had become familiar to her.

In all truth, Elvewyn was not nearly as important to her as she led people to believe. Always she spoke of how he meant something to her – always she claimed that she would not go without him or Edward, because they were precious friends to her. In truth, they were very little to her but curiosities to occupy her time – and a small glimmer of hope for a future with a familiar face. It was an irksome problem that had dwelled in her heart for a long, long time, though she rarely ever showed it. She smiled and grinned, laughed and joked and flirted, and always ignored, refused to accept, that pull at her heart.

She wanted to be with her own kind.

Not because she loved her kin. No, she despised them. But because she knew that it was her own kin that would survive throughout the ages while her human friends dropped away, fading into old age, and then out of existence altogether. For her Elvewyn was a curiosity – a strange man who intrigued her because she did not know him and could not know him. For her Elvewyn was also a chance that, hundreds of years into the future, there would be a familiar face to look to. No matter how much she smiled, no matter how sweetly she laughed and how cunningly she flirted, no matter how many friends she made and how many men she charmed, Ehver was lonely and afraid. She had no illusions about the fleeting lifespan of her beloved human friends – even that of her dwarf, Keh’less, whom she wasn’t sure she could live without. She desired a bond that could last beyond those years, a shoulder she could lean on when all others were gone.

So she stuck around. Because of her curiosity and because of her loneliness she drew herself closer to him. Part of her cringed at his presence – angered and confused with the strange, contradictory nature of his actions, impatient with his abrupt and stubborn attitude. Part of her watched with a sort of detached interest. He seemed to have little motive behind his actions. He was endlessly morbid, even when he flew without warning into one of his ‘good moods’. He said things that made little sense, and reacted in ways that seemed utterly unconnected. He started conversations and then abruptly dropped them, walking away without warning. He was kind and then cruel, commanding and then polite. She knew he was selfish and possessive – she knew that he grasped for things because he liked having them, not because he needed them or wanted them. Many times he seemed to act as if he owned the people around him, perhaps even owned her – toying with them when he was bored and then tossing them aside like a broken doll when something more interesting came along. He was flighty in nature, quick to anger, rash and stubborn and careless. He was honest as well, but in a horridly dishonest way. She felt that she could trust him, oft times, but there were other things that she discarded immediately, offhand and without any real purpose behind doing so except her own personal beliefs.

But most importantly, he was powerful.

That was the true reason she stood by their sides – the true quality that tugged her continually in their direction. Ehver had never been an ambitious girl – she was young, and had lived long on the bare minimum without ever knowing that there was anything more she could wish for. She had been happy on the road where power didn’t matter – because power was only useful when it was set against other people, and on the road there was rarely other people. So she had never become an ambitious girl. She had her own small, private goals, created to keep her time occupied, never intended to impress others or better her own position in the world. But upon coming to Isinhold, upon meeting Elvewyn and then later meeting Edward – upon being faced with power that she was helpless against – she realized how useful strength was.

As of yet, she had no desire for it herself, but it intrigued her, day in and day out. She watched with almost childish awe, her expressions masked with grins and smirks, these two people who garnered so much fear and hatred because they were more powerful than their adversaries. These people who had gained strength and who were not afraid to use it to get what they wanted. That was the difference between them and others – others like Warrick, for instance. They were restrained by their beliefs, chained down by their morals. But these two had an entirely different set of rules to function by – a set that allowed them to do as they wished, when they wished.

Ehver’s moral compass had broken long ago. . .or perhaps had never existed in the first place. Growing up alone in the chaos, grab-what-you-can-get world of the merchant outposts, she had never made a direct distinction between good and evil. She knew the difference in an abstract sense, but was rarely able to apply it to her own experiences. For her she only saw shades of gray, merging and coalescing together into an indistinct blob. For her she knew Warrick was, in that abstract sense, a ‘good’ man, and in an abstract sense she knew Elvewyn and Edward were ‘bad’ men. . .but she could not bring herself to apply that distinction and so she stood balanced in the middle, looking out with the careless thoughtlessness of a child.

She leaned forward, resting her temple against the grainy texture of the leaning wall and closing her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She was walking a dangerously thin line now, and she knew it. Her curiosity prevented her from choosing sides firmly, however, so she continued to walk it – and soon, she knew, a gust of wind would push her over the edge. And perhaps on the edge of the line was a cliff, and she would fall to her death.

In the end, for her Edward and Elvewyn were curiosities – strange fixtures in her life, beloved trinkets that sparkled and glowed. . .meaningless and valueless, but she kept them all the same. She called them friends because she knew that was what they wanted to hear, but as of yet she still hardly saw them as people. They were like exotic animals – dangerous if you made the wrong move, deadly if you offended them, but pretty and fancy and rare as long as you kept them happy. She walked carefully when they were around, smiling pleasantly and pretending to draw close to them while in reality she always kept a safe distance. Seeing them hurt did not hurt her – when Elvewyn spoke to her in the graveyard of the man he knew nothing of, wondering if he would be remembered or forgotten after he died, she watched him with a curiosity akin to watching a deformed animal limp across a field. She did not feel sorry for him, nor sympathize with his fears. . .she only found his feelings strange and foreign to her and so she listened.

They were items. She was possessive of them, unwilling to let them go – like a noblewoman and her jewels. They had no meaning and could be easily done without, but she clutched at them selfishly and would continue to do so until her curiosity was satisfied. Perhaps she would see them as true friends eventually. Perhaps her heart would make ties to them as people, instead of objects or pets. Perhaps one day she would slip inside of their exclusive inner circle, and once there she would see them for what they were and love them or hate them. For the time being, however, she neither loved nor hated them. She watched them and watched them and watched them. And in order to watch them she made them believe that she loved them and cared for them. Her curiosities were only important to her so long as they continued to fascinate her – though Elvewyn was perhaps a little more important than that. . .the embodiment of a face that, long after Warrick and Clarke and Keh’less were dead, would still be around. . .

She lifted her forehead from the hard surface of the wall, rubbing at it with the back of her arm and glancing around. The guilt was assuaged, the fear banished – everything was the same and she was still safe and they still thought of her as an important friend. She looked down with a faint smile, her heart warming, before she turned away and slipped out of the ruins, stretching like a cat in the morning rays of the sun, soaking up the warmth of the new day.

“I should write in my journal at some point,” she murmured to herself through a long, loud yawn before setting off across the hill, back towards Isinhold.

Her curiosities awaited. . .

-----------------------

((Well, because Ehver lived on the road for so long, constantly moving from place to place, I wanted to write a little piece that made it clear how she sees most other people – because this is really what it is like for her. She’s never truly gotten to know anyone besides Keh’less, so when it comes down to it, Ehver is completely clueless when it comes to caring for and interacting on a deeper level with other people. Probably one of the reasons why she has such misguided opinions about elves in general. XD Anyway, Ehver is only 112 years of age – and thus just barely considered an adult – and has lived an odd life. She has lots of faults, obviously, which I have created for her on purpose because I'd really love to see her grow out of them in game as she meets and comes to care for more people, and as she grows older and becomes more wise. . .so much love to Edward and Elvewyn, whom I carelessly insulted all throughout this entire passage. Love you both lots.))

[Ehver]

I cannot avoid making my choice forever. I can ignore it, for the time being, but I will never be able to avoid it. But in truth. . .Ifm relatively certain what I will choose in the end, when it comes down to it. Now it is only a matter of time. Always, it is a matter of time.

Oddly enough, the time available seems to have lengthened, instead of shortened. A refreshing change. . .

[Ehver]

Clarke is a nightmare. Because.

Stupid Clarke. Clarke is a stupid nightmare. Stupid nightmare. Making me write this. Why am I writing this? Don't ask me. Ask the nightmare. I'm going to get a charm against nightmares. He's stupid. Make him go away. Stupid.

But he's number three. Number three. Way up there. Stupid Clarke. I don't want him to go away.

Says I should write about loving him or not and why. . .don't know why he brings that up. Wha's that got to do with anything? Course I love him. He's number three. Obviously. Why should that matter? Says I don't know what love is so why's it matter if I love him?

At least he isn't in the way. At least he isn't all 'on the other side'. -He- wouldn't hurt Keh'less, like Warrick would. He wouldn't cause me all this trouble. I don't think so anyway. . .

I am good enough and Clarke is a really really big ninny.

I would love him if he wanted me to.

Stupid.

Says I need to write that so that I'll remember later, when I'm 'sober'. Stupid. Sober my arse. Why do I gotta remember that anyway? Course I would love him. Course I love him. Third favorite. Wha's to remember? Stupid.

---

The page is written messily, the words scrawled haphazardly across the paper and the ink blotching in places.[/color][/font]

[Ehver]

Ehver stood in silent misery, staring through the mirror at her reflection. Even with her hair rumpled and her clothing askew, she was undeniably beautiful. Even with her eyes red and raw, her brows furrowed and a scowl on her face, she was undeniably beautiful. Even with all the misery that weighed down on her soul she stood tall and straight, her head cocked to her side, her bangs falling over her face. She was young and thin and spry, all her horror and all her loneliness unable to quell the life that lit her eyes with fire and gave shape and strength to her limbs.

She pressed her fingers to her forehead, through her hair, and rubbed them in slow circles, closing her eyes to block out the sight before her. Her head throbbed as if trying to split itself apart and her heart clawed against her ribs as if it could no longer bear to be attached to her body. A soft hiss escaped between her clenched teeth. She felt as if her reflection no longer belonged to her Ewho was this pretty girl within the mirror, so full of life with such a sturdy, supple body? No, it could not be her Enot with how she felt, anyway. Her skin should be drooping off her flesh, her hair falling in clumps from her scalp and her limbs twisted and mangled. -That- was how she felt. The pretty girl in the mirror was some stranger, mocking her and all her pain.

All the memories of the past couple days seemed to blur together into one unimaginable blur of pain. She could feel the shadows of memories dancing in the back of her mind and she pushed them away Edesperately pushing them away. She did not want to remember the broken look on Warrick’s face when she turned away from him. She did not want to hear his voice again Ecalling to her, screaming her name with all the agony of the world packed into that one word. She did not want to hear him telling her that he loved her Ethat he would be with her forever. She did not want to remember the promises they had made. She did not want to remember their hopes for the future Eliving together in a villa with their children, growing gray with old age.

No, no, no! She did not want to remember! All of it, she wanted all of it to just go away. She did not want to remember the red haired corpse slung over his shoulder as Edward hurled insults his way. She did not want to remember her heart shattering when she watched him, unable to go to him, unable to comfort him. She did not want to remember the crushing weight of guilt that had dropped over her soul when she knew, knew at last, that she had broken him. That she had crushed him with all her power until there was almost nothing left.

Aye, but I had to, she told herself as the thoughts continued to pour in, unrelenting. She was sober now Esober as she had not been at all the night previous. She was sober now, and could no longer escape the things she had suppressed with liquor before. Aye, I had to. He would harm Keh’less. I asked him and he told me. . .he would harm Keh’less. Any who would harm Keh’less cannot stand by my side. I will not have it.

The thought of Keh’less soothed her enough to allow her to drop her hand to her side and once again peer at her reflection. She had scarcely ever looked at her reflection before Ealways on the road, she hardly had need to, and when she was in town the smiles of the men told her all she needed to know. She looked now, scanning every inch of her body Ejudging herself as she had never judged herself before. Tacking the words cruel and heartless, selfish and hateful, hypocritical and disgusting to her figure. This was who she was.

Her heart shattered.

This was the woman he had loved. These were the cheeks he had caressed so gently, the lips he had kissed with such warmth and passion. This was the body he had held in his arms while he whispered in her ear how much he loved her and how he would never leave her Ealways he would be with her, always. And she had curled in his arms and lied to him Eshe had told him she would never leave him. She had told him she would sacrifice everything for him. She had leaned against him, listening to the slow, deep beating of his heart and knowing that he was hers in every way imaginable and that all she had to do was smile and stand at his side and he would be eternally happy. Was that so hard?

But Keh’less. . . Aye, she could never leave Keh’less. She had been with him for too long, and owed him too much to ever leave his side, to ever betray him. And Warrick was against everything that Keh’less -was-. Keh’less, who prayed to storms and rejoiced in destruction. No, she could never have Warrick if she hoped to keep Keh’less. There was no chance of it. Why hadn’t she realized that before? Why hadn’t she tossed her feelings aside long before they had grown into anything deeper Ebefore they had caused heartbreak and misery?

But even with Keh’less in her mind she could feel his arms around her. She gazed at her reflection and could see his chin resting atop her head, a smile on his face, his eyes warm and full of love. She shuddered softly, feeling the ghostly weight of his body leaning against her back as he wrapped his arms tight around her. She could almost hear his voice Etelling her how beautiful she was, as they both gazed into the mirror.

But when she turned he was not there. No one was there. Not Warrick, whom she loved. Not Keh’less, whom she could and had sacrificed everything for. No one.

Her heart shattered again.

She moved away from the mirror, glancing around the messy heap of the room. Blankets were everywhere but on the bed where they belonged. Bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable were scattered across the floor. Her boots had been tossed at the door at some point, and lay lopsided on the ground before it and her cloak lay in a twisted heap in the corner. Her journal Eher beloved journal Ewas tossed to the side, lying half open with the pages bent and crumpled. Though, thank the Gods, they were still attached. A large ink stain dripped along one wall, opposite the bed, shattered glass twinkling on the ground. She stared at the mess, disbelieving, and wondered just what had happened to her the night before.

With a sigh she moved over, leaning down to pick up her journal and trying her best to flatten out the wrinkled pages. Her eyes caught, riveted.

Clarke is a nightmare. Because.

She slowly sat down on the messy bed, her bare feet curling in the mattress as she settled the book into her lap.

“I don’t remember writing this,Eshe murmured softly, cursing herself. Had Clarke been around last night? While she was drunk off her ass? Aye Ethe Gods were mocking her. She had prayed for him to show up for such a long time, and finally when he did she had been so drunk that she couldn’t even remember the meeting. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, pressing back the anger and hatred that welled up in her splintered heart Eanger and hatred towards the world and everything in it. Then she let her eyes slide open and flick slowly across the page as she read.

When she had finished she sat motionless, eyeing the page suspiciously. Most of it made little sense Ethe ramblings of a person who could not even organize her own thoughts, let alone write them down. But there were things in it that struck her as somehow important Eas if she had done something or said something that was somehow meaningful. She read it again, pausing on one line in particular.

I would love him if he wanted me to.

She tossed the book aside with a yelp of anger, surging to her feet again. What sort of conversation had they had? What had she said and what had -he- said in response? Why the hell had he chosen the one time she was drunk to come visit her? Why now, when she wanted nothing more but to sink into oblivion and forget that she had ever lived at all?

“Oh, Warrick. . .Eshe murmured, soft and low. Her eyes burned Ethere were no tears left in her, but if there had been she would have sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She wondered if she would ever be able to cry again. Her entire body felt dry as a desert.

She slowly slid back down onto the mattress, combing her fingers through her messy hair and staring in silence at her bare toes. What was she going to do with herself? Without Keh’less around she could not leave Efor she could not abandon him. Without Warrick around, she had no one and nothing to stand beside. She didn’t know where she was supposed to turn Ewho were her friends? Who were her enemies? Who truly cared about her? Who could she trust? Who could she love?

Oh, she wanted to love. She wanted to love and be loved so bad that she felt as if her body was trying to tear itself in two. Now that she had had a taste of it Enow that she had felt the warmth of a man’s arms around her and knew what it was to have someone devote themselves to her, heart and soul Enow she wanted more, more, more. Before she had always been satisfied with being petted and spoiled by the strangers she met in the towns she past. Before she had always found it the greatest joy to always have someone new with each day, to never be tied down to one person, to one voice and to one smile. She had been content to flirt with whoever passed her way and then move on, trudging carelessly down the road with her dwarf at her side.

Now she wanted something more. Now she wanted someone who would be hers and hers alone Esomeone who would always be familiar to her, always by her side. Now all the nameless faces that she had known before meant nothing to her. Aye, she would still flirt. It was in her nature to flirt because she was beautiful and full of life and most of all because she was vain, and wanted everyone to know her and acknowledge her. It was why she hated women so much Enot because she was jealous, in the conscious sense, but simply because they were nuisances that stole from her the attention she desired.

She sighed, flopping backwards and rolling over, one arm reaching out, her fingers curling around the spine of her journal and pulling it towards herself. She did not open it, but the words written within echoed in her head and in her heart, as if the journal could speak to her.

I would love him if he wanted me to.

Aye, perhaps it was true. All she knew was that she did not want to be alone any longer. All she knew was that she wanted -someone- to banish the silence that was left behind with Warrick’s absence. Perhaps anyone would do. She didn’t know what she wanted Ethere was still some small amount of pride left in her that hissed not to throw herself away so easily. There was still some hint of self-confidence in her that refused to allow herself to throw everything completely away. It was the only thing keeping her from getting wasted again.

Lies, all of it. She knew what she wanted Enow more than anything. Perhaps even more than Keh’less. She wanted Warrick. She wanted Warrick and only Warrick. She wanted all the world to melt away before her, into nothing. Into oblivion. To hell with Edward and his lying, cheating ways Ehim and his false smiles, false friendship. To hell with Elvewyn who picked her up and tossed her aside on whim alone Ewho felt nothing towards her and said nothing to her that had any meaning. To hell with Clarke, even Ehe who called her ‘best friendEbut was never around long enough to act the part. Aye, all of them Eall of them could rot in the abyss for all she cared, as long as she could have Warrick.

Aye, but you tossed him away.

But I could have him back. All it would take is a word and he would wrap me in his arms again and he would be mine, and I his.

Nay, you stupid fool. You tossed him away for Keh’less, don’t you remember? He was not important enough to you Eyou did not love him.

I did! With all my damn heart, I did. With every essence of my being, I did.

Then why did you do what you did? Why did you break him? How could you turn your back on him, if you loved him so deeply?

Because. . .because Keh’less always comes first. He always has. He always will.

No voice answered her. She sat alone in her room, curled up on the mess of her bed with empty bottles all around her, her journal pressed to her heart.

Aye, I made my choice. . . she answered herself with a sigh, her eyes drooping shut. She was tired. So tired. Her head throbbed to match her heart and her entire body felt heavy, aching and aching and aching.

Her lips parted as she began slipping into oblivion Eneither sleep nor reverie, simply unconsciousness.

"Warrick. . ."

[Ehver]

Ehver slipped into the small, compact room of the Regal, closing the door gently behind her and leaning back against the wooden panel. A soft sigh escaped her half parted lips as she slumped down until she found herself sitting on the floor, the back of her skull knocking lightly against the hard surface of the door. Her head throbbed, her body ached, and her heart pounded relentlessly against her ribs.

She couldn't even begin to imagine how she had survived the day. It was a wonder to her - the fact that she had been able to smile with those she claimed as friends, let alone hold sensible conversation with them. It stunned her that she had been able to laugh and joke with Doigan, the dwarf that stood at her side as a temporary replacement for Keh'less. She had even half-jokingly asked him to marry her, her usual crooked grin on her face and laughter bright in her eyes. It amazed her, that she could still live on with all the pain and all the misery. It amazed her and it sickened her.

She slumped back a little farther, her eyes fluttering shut as an image of Clarke - her dearest friend, besides Keh'less - formed before her. She had hurt him the night before, even if he would not admit it. She had told him she would love him, had told him she did not want to be alone - that she missed Warrick, that she loved Warrick, but that she would take him because she was afraid of being alone. Like a child afraid of the dark, she had clutched for him in her drunken misery, promising herself to him if only he would want her in return, would stand by her side and banish the shadows away. It was unfair to him. It was unfair of her to have said such a thing. . .

Aye, but that was the curse of alcohol - bringing out the worst in all who touched it. At the very least she had learned some interesting things, though now, sitting alone in her room, she rather wished she hadn't. She didn't want to think of how he might look at her - didn't want to think that she might be, could be, something more to him than just a friend. He had told her that to him, she was number one. That to him she was the most important - above everything, above Stella, his precious hat, above the two rapiers that hung at his side, above all the other women he had met, above gambling and above drinking and above whoring. Above all his other friends. Above everything. She didn't want to think of what that could mean for her. . .of what future those words might hold in store. She only wanted to be miserable, because in her misery her guilt over Warrick was brushed away - as long as she felt at least a small portion of the pain he had felt, she could ignore that throttling sensation that threatened to choke her life away, even in her sleep.

Aye, sleep. . .reverie. Unconsciousness. What a lovely thought, to let the blackness roll over her mind and take all the pain away. Perhaps this time, when her eyes drooped shut and the shadows cloaked her mind, perhaps this time. . .she wouldn't wake up.

---

She pushed the door to the inn open, stepping out into a dwindling twilight. The light of the moon filtered down over her silent surroundings, a soft breeze sidling across the ground and causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. The door shut lightly behind her and, without thinking, she stepped forward into the quiet, peaceful darkness.

It was a familiar and yet entirely unfamiliar scene to her. Isinhold was laid out just as it always was - the general store across the way, the inn at her back and a variety of other buildings sprawled out through the grass. The only difference was that there was not a soul to be seen. No breath of laughter danced on the air, no heavy footstep treading the roads that crisscrossed the town. She stood staring into the emptiness, her head cocked to the side.

"Ehver. . ." She shifted, twisting around as the voice sounded behind her - distant and faltering, as if carried on the breeze. She could see no one - no shadow of a figure, no familiar face regarding her from the shrouds of darkness. She shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at her shoulder and flicking her gaze around her surroundings. The emptiness was somehow oppressive and she longed for the loud, rowdy crowds she had sought to escape not long before.

"Ehver. . ." She let out a strangled cry of surprise and fear Eshe could feel something brush through her hair, a tender caress. She felt as if something was near to her - lurking just over her shoulder - but when she turned there was nothing but empty air there to greet her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, fear and loneliness and helplessness welling up inside of her, swelling in her breast until she thought she might burst.

"Ehver. . ."

---

She started awake with a jolt, grunting as her head banged against the wooden frame of the door. She lifted a hand to rub at her scalp, scowling darkly and flicking her gaze around the room. A candle was lit in the corner, shedding a flickering light across the untouched bed. The room was empty and still.

"A dream," she murmured softly, pulling her stiff body to her feet and moving over to the bed. She collapsed atop the sheets, exhausted, her body sinking back against the mattress.

"Ehver. . ."

She jerked, nearly falling off the bed entirely, the movement was so quick. She was certain the room was empty! She had just looked!

Her mismatched gaze flicked to the door and she watched in stunned silence as something seemed to slip through it - melting into the very wood and beyond. Her chest heaved with each breath, her eyes wide as her fingers curled in the sheets, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

The voice sounded painfully familiar. So horribly, miserably, heartbreakingly familiar. . .

"Warrick. . .?"

[Ehver]

Ifm slipping through the time flow
Into a place forgotten
And here I know youfre waiting
For me to come and find you.

I walk on through the darkness
Searching for your likeness
And here I know Ifll find you
If only I try hard to.

I run on through the silence
Hiding from the violence
And here I know youfll save me
If only I can fine ye.

-The tune slows-

Alonec
On the roadc
All alonec
On the roadc

-Speeds up again-

Ifm slipping through the time flow
Into a place forgotten
And here I know youfre waiting
For me to come and find you.

A maze of roads stretch forward
With no clue which to follow
I walk in silent terror
The world stretched out before me.

Somewhere veiled with distance
You wait for me with patience
But only one path leads there
And shadows cloud my way...

---

The song is written sloppily in the back of her journal, haven apparently been written while she was drunk. Some of the words are hard to make out and it was obviously written hastily and without much thought

[Ehver]

Ehver pressed her palms against the wood of the Regal's front door, letting her eyes slide shut for a moment before flicking open again, surveying her surroundings. It was a scene she had seen once before - a twilight in Isinhold, a soft breeze tugging lightly on her cloak and not a single soul stirring from within the shadows. It was a scene she dreaded as well, for with it came that familiar voice that haunted the edge of her thoughts, night and day.

"Ehver. . ." She shifted, her jaws clenching as her mismatched gaze drifted around her surroundings in search of the source of the voice. It sounded horribly distant, carried from some far off place by the breeze, drifting down to her from somewhere she could never reach. Her gaze flicked to the sky - a moon half shrouded by clouds hung heavily high above her and even the soft glimmer of the stars seemed dim.

"Ehver. . ." She twisted around, her gaze settling on the sluggish flow of the stream that moved through the town. She could hear the voice drifting over the soft babble of moving water, calling to her softly, gently. She cocked her head to the side, her breath coming slow and shallow as she stepped forward anxiously, towards the bridge. Part of her wanted to cling to the door of the Regal and ignore the soft, coaxing voice. Ignore all the pain that welled up in her chest - all the longing and cruel, sweet desire.

As she drew near to the bridge she could make out the blurred outline of a figure, receding into the darkness. Her breath caught in her throat - even with only a small glimpse it was a form she could easily recognize. The strong, broad shoulders and the tall, proud stance. Aye, she knew it well.

"Warrick!" she cried, lurching forward, her boots pounding across the bridge as she rushed to the other side.

And then suddenly darkness curdled around her, pressing down from every side. Thick clouds boiled over the moon and the stars, shrouding her in oppressive darkness. She skidded to a halt, her eyes widening and then narrowing in turn. She could feel a presence - so close and yet so far away - melting into the darkness, just beyond her sight.

"Warrick. . .?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly unsure of herself as she faced the darkness before her. For what seemed to be an eternity - seconds that might have been years - only silence greeted her. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to blind her even more than the darkness already had. Then:

"Ehver. . .I am here. . .waiting. . ."

She lurched forward at that, driving desperately into the darkness. The Bramblewood loomed before her, ominous and clothed in near impenetrable black. It terrified her, giving pause to her hasty movements. She was afraid of what might lurk beyond, but the voice continued to call her name, hissing softly on the unseen breeze that caressed her cheek.

"I'm coming," she murmured weakly, her voice breaking as she pushed aside her fear, the palm of her hand pressing against the hard, rough bark of the nearest tree as she set forward into the woods.

Within moments the darkness was almost utterly complete - she could barely see the fingers of her hand held out before her face as she stumbled forward.

"Where are you?" she called out desperately, unshed tears stinging at her eyes. "Dammit, where have you -been-?" She stumbled to a halt, turning her head this way and that, searching the darkness for some sign of the man she followed - her beloved, who made her heart ache with such ardent pain.

"I'm sorry. . ." she sobbed suddenly, all of the emotions she had hidden through smiles these last couple days flowing over the edge. All of the laughter she had shared with her friends and all the jokes she had cracked and all the sweet, meaningless flirtations she had carried on shattered and fell away from her. In that one moment she wanted him and only him - not even Keh'less could stand in her way.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out, pain and fear tainting her usually cheerful, melodic voice. "For everything. . .I'm sorry. So please, speak to me! Don't leave me alone in this darkness. . ."

"Ehver. . ." the voice sounded, just beyond her sight - so close. ". . .I love you."

"Aye!" she cried out, clutching at the words desperately, as if they were her only attachment to life. "Aye, and I you! So please. . .come back to me. . .please, where are you?" She stumbled forward, groping blindly through the darkness - reaching out for him, for any trace of him, tears burning her eyes.

A shudder coursed through her entire body as her hands curled against something hard - a man's chest, his chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she lifted her gaze to his face, his warm eyes regarding her, a loving smile on his face.

"I am here. . ." he murmured softly, gently.

"Warrick. . ." The name escaped between her lips, emotion flowing through each syllable, each singular sound of it. Her body slumped as she stepped forward, closer to him. Relief flooded through every inch of her flesh - so much so that she began to doubt if she could even stand on her own. Then her gaze flicked to their surroundings - to the darkness that loomed all around them Eand fear rose up like a hungry beast in her heart.

"Warrick, what is this? A dream? A nightmare? Warrick. . ." she murmured the name pleadingly, her breath coming sharp and shallow, rattling in her lungs.

"I don't know. . ." he replied gently, smiling to her warmly as he lifted a hand to brush across her cheek. Another shudder coursed through her body and she reached up, clutching at it, curling her fingers through his.

"I am sorry!" The words tumbled out without thought, her voice desperate, breathy and hasty. "I am sorry! Warrick, I love you. I cannot - I will not - live without you! Come back to me please! . . .Where are you, Warrick? Why have I not seen you?"

His arms curled around her, pressing her close to him as he wrapped her in a loving embrace. She leaned against him, soaking up the feeling of his embrace and knowing that she could not live without it - that however young and foolish and rash she might be, this man was what she wanted and what she needed. She had been lost without him - these past couple days had been marked with misery after misery, with helpless longing and pain. It had taken losing him for her to realize how much he meant to her. She had never acknowledged it before - never truly admitted to herself how much he had come to mean to her in such a short time. She acknowledged it now, after these past few days of wretchedness. She acknowledged now that, while those that knew her said she had no clue as to the meaning of 'love' she truly, truly loved this man.

An expression of pain flashed across his face, twisting the warmth of his smile as his arms pulled away from her. She stumbled without his strength to hold her up, nearly collapsing to her knees. He reached out to her as he faded into the darkness, as if some great force pulled him inexorably backwards into the abyss. She let out a strangled cry, tears now flowing unchecked over her cheeks. She stumbled forward, grasping desperately for him.

"Warrick! Warrick, don't go! Don't leave me here! Please, come back to me!" she sobbed as his body melted into the shadows, out of sight.

"Ehver. . .find me. . ." his voice echoed, calling to her from some far distance, pain dripping in his tone. Then it faded away, coalescing into silence and leaving her alone in the darkness with nothing to guide her way. . .

---

She woke with a start, her face wet with tears and her entire body trembling violently. She lurched forward, burying her face in her hands and letting out a horrified sob. Never before had she felt so terrifyingly alone.

"Warrick. . .where are you?"[/color][/font]

[Ehver]

Ah, I have not written in so long, and to tell the truth, I do not believe I will be writing much. Nothing comprehensive anyway. Just thinking about it makes my heart ache - ache for all my foolishness, and all the pain it caused. I truly am young. I guess I never really realized it before. When you're an adult you're not supposed to make these mistakes. You're supposed to be calm and knowledgeable. You're supposed to know what to do. -I- for one don't know what to do. I only know what I want. Like a child I only know what I want, but not how to get it.

I want Warrick. But I suppose that is skipping ahead, for I never did write what has been happening between us. I suppose I should. I suppose I should because this was what I promised to do, when I took my first journal in hand. This was why Vars taught me to read and write in the first place. I suppose I should. Perhaps I should just keep it short.

Warrick left Korista. For me. But I could not be with him without tossing away my friendship with Edward and Elvewyn, so at first I refused to take him. I wanted him so badly, but I am such a greedy, selfish girl. I want everyone. He came up with a plan - that we would see each other in private, and pretend not to have anything to do with each other in public. It was a good plan, and for a time we would slip off together, spending out days and nights in each other's arms, forgotten by the rest of the world.

But there was one day, in Isinhold, when I was sitting on that rock with Elvewyn. He was leaning up against me and whispering to me and Warrick was across from us, on the fence. I suppose he got annoyed, because he got up to leave - but before he left, he paused and turned to look at me. Then with defiance in his eyes he walked straight up to me, completely ignoring Elvewyn, who was leaning on my arm, and dipped down, kissing me right on the lips. At that point, as you can imagine, the whole charade was blown. For him it was impossible to stand by, watching Elvewyn touch me. I suppose I should be glad for that.

Elvewyn was furious. I followed him around for awhile, begging him to be my friend - I am selfish, remember, and want everyone for myself. He refused, however.

At some time later I ended up speaking to Edward, and at some point the conversation turned to Keh'less. He reminded me that I could not have everyone and everything that I wanted and pointed out the difference between Warrick and Keh'less. I suppose that was the first time I seriously considered the effects of what was happening around me. Warrick would never stand by Keh'less - Keh'less who worships storms and loves destruction. He would never do it, and how could I stand by him, if he was a threat to my dear friend?

I could not. (Or so I thought at the time.) He returned to Isinhold soon after, a corpse slung over his shoulder - apparently of Korista, though I found out later that it actually was not. He took it to be buried and then returned, and at that point, in front of everyone, I made it clear to him that we could no longer be together. It was hard, but not so hard that I could not do it. It was only when he took me to speak in private that it became truly, desperately hard.

I love him so much. By the Gods, I don't know if I can even live without him, and I curse myself for this foolishness. He took me up to one of the many hills in Isinhold and begged me to stay with him. I refused, of course. . .but when he wrapped me in his arms, telling me how much he loved me and not letting me go I thought my heart would break. And my mind started working - I could not have Elvewyn and Edward if I chose him, but that was fine. As long as I could keep Keh'less and Warrick both, the other two could go to hell. I asked him. . .I asked him what he would do, if Keh'less were to burn down an inn full of innocent people, or some other like act of destruction that a follower of Talos is accustomed to. He was horrified and unhappy, and reluctantly admitted that he would not allow it. That he would do something about it.

That was when all deals broke for me. I pushed him and told him I could not have him, and I turned on my heel and walked away. He shouted my name in despair, calling me back to him. . .but the thought of him harming Keh'less still burned in my mind - and I could not stand to be near him.

Now, however, after these couple days of misery in which he has not been around, I find myself longing him no matter what. That is not to say I have any intention of giving Keh'less up - only that I will try as hard as I possibly can to make it work. I love him, and all the Gods in the world could not keep me from him now.

Aye, 'Trouble' is indeed a good nickname for me. It follows me wherever I go, dogging my footsteps and nipping at my heels. The sad part is, it's usually of my own fault.

I am grateful for Doigan's presence - a dwarf I met recently who is cunning and good natured. I do not know what I would have done without him here to keep me occupied during Warrick's absence. He is truly a good friend, and if I could - if I can - I will take him on the road with me when I leave. It seems my travelling group growls larger each day. Keh'less and me, Clarke, Warrick, and perhaps Doigan. We will be quite the band, aye?

But in all truth, Doigan is a good man. I cherish his friendship deeply and I hope that I will never accidentally - or purposefully - take advantage of it. I have always had a soft spot for dwarves, I suppose. . .but this one, like Keh'less, is special to me.

Aye, and Clarke. . .I will not write about those troubles today. Another time. Another time. . .

[Ehver]

I walk the path that has no name
From the beginning of my life
I come today from where I came
A soul unknown by strife

Sorrows here and worries there
Have never marred my heart
And love as well I never share
For itfs bitter, cruel and tart

I walk unburdened by fear and fright
Along the path that has no name
And here Ifve never known of night
For day in and out, tis all the same

I sing of how the sky is blue
And the seasons turn and turn
And walk that path with footsteps true
A thousand lessons left to learn

eLife is lasting and life is longf
I caution as I go
eSo write a poem or write a song
Of all the things you knowf

And thatfs advice I take as well
As I wander down my winding road
Of both good and bad are the things I tell
And of things foul and well do I bode

So the lesson here, this storyfs key
Is to make the best of the things that be
And live your life as you see fit
With confidence, charm and as alwayscwit

---by VARS

Below the poem is written a short message:

eSo the lesson here, this storyfs key, is to make the best of the things that be and live your life as you see fit, with confidence, charm and as alwayscwitf. Ifve rarely received such good advice before. You were a wonderful teacher, and with luck I will see you again before you are set in your grave, old man Vars.[/color][/font]

[Ehver]

Ehver rubbed her thumb against the palm of the opposite hand, tilting her head to the side and squinting in the gloom as the sun set, the horizon painted red. Like blood, she thought absently as she massaged her hand, her bangs falling over and half obscuring her young, pretty face. A faint scowl touched her sweet lips, curling them down as a crease appeared between her brows.

Warrick was gone - out somewhere, killing something. Or perhaps with the Old Man who so disapproved of his love for her and warned him against her. That was a wonder in itself, really. Was she such a threat to Warrick that the Old Man must take him aside and caution him against her - was she so cunning, so dangerous? She rather thought that it was a flattering overestimation on his part, for she had no plot to turn him from the path of all that was 'good' and 'righteous'. It had never really occurred to her before, in all honesty, though it did now that it had been brought up. Part of her sincerely liked Teneas. Most of her, however, didn't even have enough interest in him to give a damn.

She sighed softly, leaning against the rough, uneven surface of the leaning wall of Elvewyn's sulking spot - the ruins with their crumbled walls and piles of debris. She lifted her gaze from the thumb that massaged her palm to the blood stained horizon, tilting her head to the side and wondering when Warrick would return. Whenever he was around she felt fairly content and eager to be on the move - whenever he was at her side he seemed to fade into the background, forgotten as if his mere presence was enough to assuage her desires and once again feed her enthusiasm for life. When he was with her she was suddenly eager for all things the world had to offer and impatient to be on her way. But when he was away her thoughts slowed to a dull ticking and she stared off with absent eyes, waiting for him to return and she thought how she should treasure him more than she did and how she should do everything in her power to make him happy, forever and ever and ever. And that was all she wanted, in those moments when he was not near - to make him happy, to see him smile and to see his eyes melt with warmth and love. How odd that she could never seem to remember that desire when he stood before her.

I am such an odd creature, she thought, a confident smile spreading across her beautiful face, her eyes alight with careless self-assurance as if all the Gods together could not steal from her happiness and her blessings.

But that is fine. It is part of my charm.

She chuckled under her breath, sinking back more comfortably against the leaning wall and waiting. . .waiting for Warrick

[Ehver]

Ehver ran a hand through her hair, leaning back with a soft sigh, her eyes drooped half shut as she stared at the smoldering embers flickering before her. She could still smell the faint, lingering scent of fruit drifting from the recently washed and combed locks. She could still feel that man's fingers rubbing against her scalp and the burning sensation in her throat as he forced her head under the water, abruptly and without warning. She could see him standing over her, his expression somewhat irritated, a slight crease between his brows and a very faint frown tugging down on his lips.

You have caused me endless amounts of trouble, Elvewyn, she thought as the shade of her imagination lingered before her sleepy eyes. No anger, no impatience, no frustration or even annoyance welled up in her chest as might be expected. The phantom of that infamous Lorkh peered down at her smugly, his eyes hard and cold, his hood pulled forward, shadowing half his face. She could almost hear him mocking her, telling her that perhaps she should just give him up and run off to the arms of her love.

But she wouldn't. Before she might have - before when he was simply an object of her immense curiosity, she might have tossed him aside and thought little of it. Her opinion of him was much the same - that he was rash and selfish, greedy and arrogant. -That- had not changed. . .but something else had. Something immensely important had shifted around in her heart, crowding away and leaving open a small, tender spot where all of her memories of the hated elf nestled together. All of her memories of his cruelty, of his stubbornness and his unforgiving nature. All of her memories of other things as well - of his smiles, of his rare moments of openness. This small spot had been carved out of her by one simple meeting that had flipped her views of him upside down - her opinion was entirely the same as before, but was now seen from a different direction, a different angle. And that made all the difference.

Her curiosity, her strange little object, had become mortal. The exotic pet that had amused and irritated her had suddenly, inexplicable, become a mortal being. All of his pride had come crashing down around him as tears welled up in his eyes, falling down his cheeks as he struggled desperately to gather the tatters of self-control around his being. That unbreakable wall had shattered. His shoulders shook with his sobs as he rubbed furiously at his eyes - furious for letting himself break down. Furious for showing his weakness. All of his pain, all of his sorrow, his regret, his loneliness had come pouring out of him, uncontrollable and raw. And she known then that this was no pet for her to play with - this was no creature to toy with, to pretend to befriend for her own amusement. As his tears slid down his cheeks something essential in her point of view had changed dramatically and she saw him for the first time as a being with emotions, who felt pain and who felt happiness.

In that singular moment he had won her heart. Not in the romantic sense, exactly - but her loyalty and her trust. Everything about him was still the same. She still saw him as a sniveling little brat at times, and was often irritated by his rudeness and self-centered attitude. But now these were seen as the faults of being mortal, and these things were accepted into her heart as part of his being. They were accepted whole heartedly, without condition and without judgment because in her mind he had suddenly, within the span of two minutes or so, gained her true friendship. A friendship that she fought for and defended tooth and nail when he was not nearby. He had suddenly become a person she was willing to stand by - not because of curiosity, but because she saw him for who and what he was and was willing to try her *holy frioles* hardest to forge a good relationship with him as best she could.

In that one moment of weakness - a moment which he had so obviously abhorred and which he had been quick to escape from - he had snatched up her loyalty and taken it for himself. It was almost funny to her, because she rather doubted that he realized it. She was almost entirely certain that he had utterly no idea how hard she fought to defend him. She was certain that he had no clue that he had made such a steadfast friend of her, so suddenly. She thought, miserably, that he probably wouldn't appreciate it even if he -did- know.

But she fought anyway. Even if he would never acknowledge it or show gratitude for it. Even if he never even learned of it either way. She fought for him desperately, trying with all her might to make people -see- that perhaps he was more than they judged him to be. She never expected to win. She never expected to make people believe that perhaps he should be given a second chance. She never expected to gain anything from it, to win anything out of it. She never expected -anything-. And she got nothing. Nothing at all.

And so she sat, her legs pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her knees as she gazed at the embers and the hazy phantom that hung over her half closed eyes. She wondered distantly what she was doing. She wondered if it was the right thing to do or if she had somehow stumbled somewhere and made a mistake. She wondered if she was making things too complicated. She wondered if there was any escape for her, or if this was to be her fate. She wondered plenty of things, but the answers were few and far between.

It would have been easier for me if I continued to not care, y'know? she asked the shade vaguely, a faint smile on her lips. It faded, melting away into the flames and leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She had screamed and raged at him. They had shouted - the first major fight they had ever gotten in. She and Warrick. He had railed on her for befriending such a horrid man as he and she had shouted back that he was an important friend to her - that he was a person like any other who felt the pangs of loneliness in his breast. He could not understand. He would probably never be able to understand. It tore his heart apart to see the woman he loved defend the man he hated so vehemently. She -knew- how much it hurt him. . .but what was she to do? Abandon Elve? Abandon him now that she had finally come to accept him? . . .she could not.

You would throw me away so easily. You would advise me to forget about you. You would be cruel and harsh - you would probably tell me you don't care one way or another. That is what you would tell me, Elvewyn. To get over it. 'You can't please everyone'. So why, by the Gods! -why- do I defend you?

It was one of her most treacherous faults, that loyalty of hers. The same loyalty that steeped her in misery and confusion at the thought of losing Keh'less. The same loyalty that would lead her to sacrifice her life and everything in it for the people she was devoted to. It was a careless, reckless, thoughtless loyalty that was given to so very few, for such seemingly haphazard, random reasons. It was a loyalty that demanded almost nothing in return. It was a loyalty that sent her head first into actions that could cost her everything dear and near to her heart. It was a blind, blind loyalty that was more fault than virtue.

Keh'less had it. Clarke had it. Elvewyn had it. Doigan was precariously close to getting it as well. Ironically, strangely, Warrick - the man she loved - did -not- have it.

She tightened her grip around her legs, tears sliding silently down her cheeks, her eyes burning.

"You stupid, stupid girl," she growled at the fire, sobbing weakly between words. "You foolish little bitch. You pathetic, worthless little -*chickenwing*-! He has no escape because he loves you so dearly and you break his heart, over and over and over again. You tell him that you love him and then you cavort with the only people he cannot stomach. The people that would kill him and his friends, and destroy everything he holds dear. You stupid girl. After all the love he has shown you - can you show no more appreciation than this?"

But in the end, she would not toss Elvewyn aside - not without one damn good reason. She would not toss Clarke aside if he asked her for that. She would not toss Doigan aside. These people were all important to her - people who she called friends.

She buried her face in her knees, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Oh Keh'less, where are you. . .?"

[Ehver]

He asks the world of me. For me to be with him I must give up everything. To be with him - and by the Gods, I want so badly to be with him - I must make friends with his friends and I must toss aside my own friends. He wants me to stop hating the Hullack Elves. He wants me to abandon Elvewyn. He wants me to forsake my path in life - the path that Keh'less follows. I want him badly. I think of our dreams for the future and I want it so much my heart hurts. I am so afraid of being alone. I am so afraid of being abandoned and having nothing and no one to hold me up. I am so afraid that Keh'less is gone, that I won't ever see him again. . .and if I no longer have Warrick, then what -do- I have? Elvewyn hardly gives a damn about me. Clarke is hardly ever around. Even Doigan has been scarce these days. . .

All I know is that I do not want to be alone. All I know is that I want him and, more importantly, I -need- him. So what am I to do? Sacrifice everything that has defined my being for all these years? Throw away those friends that he does not agree with and make friends with the very people I despise instead? Do I toss it all away for him?

I am afraid, Keh'less. I am terrified - terrified of being alone and of having nowhere to go. He would marry me. He would stay by me forever if I do this for him. I would never, ever be alone again, if only I do this for him.

So is this to be my fate? A caged animal, leashed and chained to his arm? He loves me - I know he does - but he cannot possibly know how much he is asking me.

Make friends with the people I hate? Make enemies of the people I care about? Step off my path, and walk instead -his- path?

That is what I must do to keep him. . .I do not even know where to begin. . .

Or if I even should.

[Ehver]

She was a liar. She had always been a liar. It was her defense mechanism - her way of burying all the painful memories that she did not ever want to consider again deep in her heart. She lied. She told half-truths. She left information out. She made things up altogether, which had no truth to them and no relevance. All of these things she did because there was more inside of her than she wanted anyone to know. More there than she thought anyone truly -needed- to know. She masked all the deep, inner pain that festered in her heart with falsities and white lies and excuses. She avoided the core of most issues and, more than anything else, she put a barrier over the innermost depths of her heart that very few could reach beyond.

There were things she had never even mentioned to Keh'less. There were deep rooted fears and set-in-stone hatreds that burned within her no matter how far she traveled and how many people she met. She masked them by smiling and by being cheerful. She masked them by flirting endlessly and by cultivating an abrupt, blunt, and carefree personality that always kept people at a distance while giving them the distinct impression that they were moving closer. She seemed honest. She seemed like a careless, often rash person who flew through life with little care in the world. She seemed thoughtless and flighty at times. Even when she remarked on the things she hated, it often seemed to be a shallow hatred - the hatred of a sullen child who hadn't gotten her way. And in that way she kept her most personal thoughts hidden away.

But -he- refused to accept them. While others looked over her lies because, more often and not, they didn't care, he looked beyond. He tugged at her, pulling and pushing in his attempt to find a way over the barrier she had set up against the world. He asked the hard questions relentlessly until she would have liked nothing better than to fly at him and rip his head from his shoulders, just to make him stop. He pressed her, always with that compassionate, somewhat hurt expression on his face. She knew he wanted to be close to her. She knew he wanted there to be nothing secret left between them. She knew he loved her and that he wanted to help her. But she didn't -want- his help. There was a secret place under lock and key that she wanted no one to touch and enter. He had already ruptured a crack in it.

She wondered vaguely what he thought of her. She had already come to accept the fact that he knew she lied about most things. He knew that there were places within her that he had not touched on Ethat he might never touch on. He would not marry her until all of those places were pulled open and examined, dissected. She wanted his marriage - she wanted the sense of security that came with having someone who would be with her forever, no matter what. With Keh'less gone she realized suddenly how fleeting things in her life were - how they came and left without warning. She wanted to hold onto something - desperately to dig her claws into some person who would stand by her and never leave her side. Marriage was, to her, a guardian against all the loneliness and darkness in the world. She loved Warrick, truly she did. . .but she loved marriage more.

She searched desperately for a way to keep herself hidden from him. She sought a way that she could make him believe he had learned all there was to know and, in reality, learn nothing at all. Those dark places she coveted - they were the most passionate part of her soul, hidden spots meant for her and her alone. To learn of them was an invasion into her very being - an unwelcome, hostile takeover.

In a small, hidden pocket she had sewed into her clothing was a tiny, golden locket. In it was clasped a picture of a young elven woman, a smile on her face, dark brown, wavy locks curling over slender shoulders and soft cheeks. She clutched the secret treasure to her being and faced the world through dark eyes, masked by laughter. Even Keh'less did not know the places where her mind dwelled. . .

[Ehver]

Ehver couldn't help but smile, hunching her shoulders as she regarded the sleeping figure of the man she had so quickly come to love. His chest rose and fell with each soft, shallow breath, his face peaceful in reprise. His hair hung carelessly over his face and around his neck, endlessly messy as usual. Everything about him made her heart ache - the strong set of his shoulders, the soft curl of his lips and how his fingers, even in sleep sought her hands, wrapping around her own slender digits and holding tight there.

It was an irksome thought to her that he had shared a bed with other women - especially that Korista girl, whom she was quickly coming to hate. She took some satisfaction in the fact that he loved her a thousand times more than he had ever loved Korista. It soothed her ego to think that even if she were to leave him, he would never go back to that hateful woman, for she could never replace Ehver in his heart. It was reassuring to think that, no matter how many other women he had been with, he had never considered marrying any of them - not even Korista. Only her.

She reached out a hand to brush the soft, red hair from his forehead, her smile slowly fading away.

Even though he loves me this much, he still holds back. He is afraid of me - afraid of what I can do to him, afraid of the things I hide from him. Hells, no one has ever looked so -hard- before. I lie to him the same as to everyone else. . .why is it that only he sees there is something beneath? The one man in all the world that I desperately wish not to see anything. . .and he is the one who sees everything.

He would not marry her. Not yet - oh Gods, she knew he wanted to, but he would not. She knew that it was a fight for him every day, a fierce struggle against his very being, to keep from proposing to her. Part of her was pleased by it - the selfish, vain, arrogant part that felt petted by his obvious adoration of her. Another part was afraid, because she -did- lie to him and because every little thing she did could hurt him to the point of breaking. She had seen what the softest, smallest comment could do to him - seen the pain and the hurt flash across his face. She loved him dearly, but she was by nature a selfish creature, entirely used to being independent, without ever having to worry about others. Once again she was hit with the realization that her actions now had consequences. . .and Warrick was far too dear for her to risk on her own carelessness.

She leaned back, away from him, a scowl tugging down on her lips. She could not - would not - reveal to him the secrets he so desired to learn. There were things that she still had to decide, goals that she still had to form. Her years on the road had taken her sense of purpose away, softened her desire for revenge. But here, in Isinhold, it was slowly returning. Here, surrounded by the things she hated most, she remembered everything that she had pushed aside before.

But there was a chance she would set all her hate and all her bitterness aside again. There was a chance she would put it away, under lock and key, never to touch it again. There was a chance that she would leave the past behind forever and look forward to a better, brighter future. There was a chance. . .After all, she truly did love Warrick.

She left her journal untouched, too afraid of the things she would write if she picked it up again. It was better to leave it to the side until things were sorted and she had a clear, definite path to follow. Right now there was too much to consider. . .and probably not enough pages left to write in.

[Ehver]

Ehver shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tilting her head to the side and turning her mismatched gaze to the horizon. The red sun was beginning to sink into the ground, cascading the sky with dark shades of crimson. It didn't look like blood to her this time - always she had watched the sunset and thought of fire and blood, the memories of her past stirring in her heart. Always she had seen her life consumed in smoke and ember as the blood of ally and enemy alike puddled in the grass.

But not today. She watched the sky darken with a slight smile on her face, satisfied and content, her fingers gently twiddling with the small band of gold on her ring finger. She was to be a bride. She was to be a wife. She was to devote herself to one man and only one man, until death chose to intervene. Finally she would feel the safety she had desired all her life - that warm sense of having somewhere to belong no matter what happened, no matter how many enemies she made or friends she lost to the withering grip of time. He would be hers and she would be his and nothing would tear them apart.

But that did not mean she could leave things as they were.

Already she was making the changes she felt necessary, the small shifts in attitude that she could manage, bit by bit. Already she had met with the woman called Zoriya and softly apologized to her. . .and then afterwards she had made light conversation with her and the others that had been in the room at the time. It was a small step, but it was something - something, considering usually she would have ignored them all outright. It was one of the small things she could handle, that meaningless conversation that would have made Warrick beam if he had been there to see it. A small, small step towards making her position better - towards making herself less of an outcast, so that she could stand proudly at his side.

Still, the true test would come later. Later, with the Hullack elves. She could never bring herself to like them - the question was if she could bring them to like -her-. Could she stomach her disgust and smile to them? Could she play a role, press a cheerful mask to her face and pretend? And even if she could, would they fall for it? She had her doubts. . .she wasn't even sure if she could play the part well enough, let alone fool them. Well, she figured she could fool -most- of them, easily enough. It was people like Teneas that made her nervous, for she had the distinct feeling that he saw much more than he let on. Not to mention she was not yet willing to give up Edward and Elvewyn, and that would most certainly put a damper on any enthusiastic friendships with the Hullack, whether she acted amazingly well or not.

But, at the very least, she would try. She would do her very best to make Warrick happy - do her very best to be able to stand by him openly and happily. She did not want to cut him off from his friends. She did not want to be forced to stand up and leave whenever they entered the room - either leaving him behind or forcing him to follow. She wanted to be able to sit beside him, no matter what company he kept, and be happy there.

Still, she would never love them. She would never even like them. She could not accept him and she would not allow herself to accept them. She would play a game and, if she could manage it, she would play it well. If that would make Warrick happy, that is what she would do.

In the meantime, she'd have to find -other- ways to satisfy her hatred and bitterness. . .

"I can't believe I'm getting married," she murmured, her expression warm as she smiled brightly into the sunset, a soft laugh bubbling up in her throat.

[Ehver]

Ehver tapped the window with her knuckles distractedly, peering out as a thick, drenching rain poured all throughout Suzail. She breathed a sigh, her breathe fogging a small patch of the window as she rested her forehead against the cold glass. She had left while Warrick napped, and recently returned to find him missing. Without a clue as to where he was, she stood in absent minded silence, watching the storm rage beyond the warm walls of the Wheel.

After awhile of watching the uneventful gray slate of rain and wind she moved over to the crackling fire, settling down against the cushions of the couch and pulling out the items for writing the first entry in her journal in a long, long time.

---

A lot of things have happened that I have not written about, and I'm not entirely sure where to begin. I've fallen far, far behind and it seems increasingly important to be watchful of what I write here, in case prying eyes catch hold of this book. I will write some, anyway, and keep these pages close.

First I will start with the basics, and that is simply this - I am, at last, getting married. Warrick has asked me to be his wife and I most happily agreed. The promise of marriage is a prospect I have been eyeing for some time now - the safety of a man who will be mine and only mine, who will protect me and watch over me no matter what. With Keh'less again I feel suddenly exposed and in danger. Without my dwarf it is as if the ground has been pulled out from beneath me, and I am struggling for some hold to stop my fall. Warrick seems to be that hold.

I love him, I truly do. At least, I'm almost certain I do. I love his touch, I love his warmth, I love that -he- loves -me-. I feel safe with him. I feel as if he can protect me. I feel as if, as long as I have him, I will never have to worry about loneliness ever again. If that is love, than I love him as far as love goes. All I know is that I want him - whether because I am afraid of what will happen to me if I lose him or because I truly can't live happily without him, I can't say.

Either way, I do see where we will clash. I have been trying my best to change for him. I have been making friends with all sorts of people I would avidly avoid under normal circumstances. Women, elves and all sorts of 'righteous' people. I want to be able to stand by him without worry - I don't want to be an outcast among his friends, and that is the plain truth of things, without ornamentation. But there are some habits that die hard, and those are what truly gets to him. The fact that I flirt irks him more than I ever expected. We have already gotten in multiple fights over small comments and simple actions that are hardly noticeable. He is over sensitive. He is easily angered. I can hurt him without even realizing I am doing it - and that is something I neither expected, nor am ready for. I'm not entirely sure what to do about it. I don't like seeing him hurt, but at the same time I don'y want to baby him through every tiny little thing that happens. I love him and truly enjoy his company, but some things grate on me in ways I never anticipated.

Aye well, I'm sure that will straighten out with time. There are more important things to worry about - a more sensitive issue that has caught my attention. I recently got in a rather heated fight with Edward and Elvewyn over my new choice in friends. As I said earlier, I have been trying to expand my group of companions into formally ignored groups of people, for the sake of Warrick and our marriage. Edward and Elve did not take kindly to this new path in my life and warned me rather pointedly that I had best choose my friends carefully or face the consequences. I have known all along that they are enemies of Warrick and the Hullack elves, but it has never hit me so clearly as it does now.

Well, we talked again after the fight and sort of patched things up, so all is well again, in a way. Things are changing, however.

In lighter news, I recently spent a pleasurable time with Doigan. I am truly fond of that dwarf - truly. If it wasn't for Warrick, I swear I could fall in love with him! Hah! He is slowly filling the dark hole left behind by Keh'less, but in a new, vastly different way. He is important to me - a good friend, but a different friend. He isn't a friend like Clarke is a friend. . .I don't know, it's hard to explain, but he holds a different place in my heart, just like Keh'less was always special and in a category entirely of his own.

I don't really know what to do about him, to tell the truth. It's odd - I don't look at him like I look at Warrick. . .but I look at him just as much as I look at Warrick. If that makes any sense. Anyway, I have always had a strange fondness for dwarves, so I suppose that is just how things are with me. Damn it, I want to talk to him -so- badly, but I am not sure what all I can say. It is a thin line I walk these days, and my life is very much on the line. I am much more willing to talk to him than I am to talk to Warrick. . .but I have always been unwilling to tell Warrick things.

Aye well, I hope all will be well. With Warrick, I mean. I feel that, even though I am trying hard for him, things are somehow going wrong. It hurts to know that he loves me so much, and yet not being able to entirely make him happy.

But I am trying, and I hope that counts for something. . .[/i][/font]