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Say Something

“I need to bring you back, Brenna”
“I’m not going. Leave, Baldwin”
I stood there, watching, thinking of something, anything to say to help this situation but a void found my waiting thoughts. Tensions were rising. An altercation was imminent and I had to say something.

“STOP”

I commanded the two divine beings who turned to gaze at me. The will of God, and…something else, stared back and what authority I thought I had wilted. My voice silenced, my thoughts yet again desperately grasping at the void for something to cut through the chaos. I prayed, hoping to find some kind of certainty, confidence, or decisiveness that would help guide me in this. Hellfire, so said Baldwin, began to be flung. Divine along with more and more profane blows were traded and Baldwin faltered, bleeding profusely. I was needed and I knew what I could do to help. My legs found haste as I ran to find my pack. My bunk? Empty. Outside the tavern? Not there. Inside? By the foot of the chair I was not moments earlier sitting at. I snatched a bandage from the front and rushed back to the fray. Baldwin seemed fine, and my heart settled yet again into this uncertain void. Why couldn’t I lead? Why couldn’t I say anything that could help this situation? Ragnar threw himself into the conflict challenging Brenna and that’s when I knew this was not my fight. I hated it, but I was powerless. I wish I could calm Brenna, to convince Baldwin there was another way to do things, but no solutions came to mind. I watched in sullen resignation as Brenna and, now Ragnar, fought and felt my angel’s presence behind me. The mask I wore, the hood I’d dawned weighed heavily on me as I felt, yet again, death’s presence in our community. A comforting wave washed over me as Ragnar did what he felt he had to do. Now my job had started. To be the pillar to those who need it, the guide post for those lost. Why, though, couldn’t that have been sooner? I could’ve saved a valued member of our community had I tried harder, said anything, done something. Again, the wave washed over me as tears rolled down my face under my mask.

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What am I doing?

*The following is scrawled in Vernon’s Journal*

What am I doing? People are depending on me. Not just my siblings, the people of this town. I made them a promise in front of God and Lurian of not doing harm, and I broke that. How can they in reasonably put their faith in me. I asked for their forgiveness and all I was given was a continuation of what I was doing. That’s not enough, obviously, because that didn’t keep me from doing it in the first place. These new priests that have come to town, thank God, already feel more like priests than I do. They’ve been devoted for so long when I’ve just come into the faith a bit over 2 years ago. Even the gatherers feel more useful than what I do. Why do I even try? What am I even trying to do anymore? Why am I leading things on such a spiritual level? I came to help this town to ensure I and my siblings had a safe place away from my parents, not…this. I thought I’d be helping, not leading. I think I’m the one that needs help. Even among all these people, this town of my choosing and its inhabitants, I feel so alone. I need to be strong, to be wise, to be…good, but I’m only human. I want for appreciation, for the comforts of the world, for acceptance. Why don’t I feel that? What’s missing? How do I even figure any of this out? I have no one to guide me, to lean on in the way that I need. How many people need to die for the answer I’m looking for? How many times do I need to mess up before it’s enough?

I guess the only way to find out is to move forward, but that feels so much like defeat already. Like I’m a fool going into a situation I know is going to end badly. At least I think I know. Maybe I don’t know. Maybe there’s some hope in that. God I don’t know anymore.

…I miss my parents

*tears stain the paper this is written on*

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The Cold Embrace of Death

So many of the warriors here talk about the heat of battle, the feeling of blood rushing through your veins, the feeling of time both getting longer and shorter. Clashes feel like they take hours, but moments during them feel so fleeting. I felt a different side of this when looking for the sword of this mysterious potential saint, Rannveig. Their hatred for Sveas and her minions was palpable even in spirit when I met him in my vision, but I learned just how deep that ran. When I came upon the field just outside the eternal storm, I felt…calm, peace knowing this was the place I was sent to visit, that this great warrior would no longer be lost to time or held only in respect through fallible stories, and that my long journey wouldn’t be for naught. As this peace settled, my vision darkened. I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision, but when I came to, I was no longer in the warm sun of the late summer skies. Snow covered the ground, but I found no chill in my bones. In my hand was the sword I was looking for, and before me was a hoard of Sveas’s minions, the undead. My heart swelled, but again a peace washed over me. Death wasn’t something to be feared, but faced head-on. I prayed for strength, wisdom, and endurance in this battle and marched forward toward the encroaching sea of bodies.

A roar escaped my lungs as I swung my blade and immediately cut down four of these creatures, a light flashing on every connection of my blade. These were nothing. There were no weapons or armor on them, just a cold, bloodthirsty passion in their gaze. This wasn’t a battle of skill, but of endurance. I kept my wits about me as I cut down dozens, then hundreds. There was a break in the chaff, and I spotted more coming for me now armed and armored. This fight was only beginning. They rushed me this time and attacked with more coordination and tact, yet they were still no match for me. I focused but felt fatigue setting in. This was the touch of Sveas and I would not let her win. I let out another roar and took down the three that were flanking me. I rushed with determination through the ranks of these monsters and locked eyes with ones that could be considered my equal. They were much larger, and I felt the cold aura of Sveas even from the distance I was at. I rushed toward them, taking down undead left and right.

“Finally, a potential challenge. Here I thought you were toying with me, Sveas. I’ll take down your champions and whatever else you throw at me. I am not your slave. I am Rannveig the Death Defiant.”

I leapt towards the beast, and steel clashed in midair. Blows were traded, cutting down the surrounding troops, and for once, I was taking injuries. They felt cold and numb instead of the typical wounds I’ve felt before. At last, I slashed an arm off the champion, his sword arm, and took the chance to separate its head from its body. It slumped to the ground defeated, and behind it, two more warriors of similar stature approached, cleaving a path of their own troops.

“I thought that was too easy for the god of death. Let’s really see what you have for me.” I cleaved both of them, steel clashing, iron ringing, and my endurance fading. Between the wounds, the supernatural cold, and me fighting for what felt like hours, my abilities were dulling. I collected more injuries on my leg and arm. I took to one knee and felt the grip of Sveas tightening on my wounds. I took a painful breath in, and let out one final roar.

“I AM NOT YOURS, SVEAS! YOU WILL TASTE MY VENGEANCE!” I spun and cleaved the two fighting me, decapitating them in the process. I leapt at those surrounding me and continued my rampage. I knew my time was limited, but I would take as many as I could with me. A long sword slipped between my armor, a hammer battered my arm, a great axe knocked me off balance, and that was it. My injured leg gave out as I fell on my back. The hoard didn’t descend upon me, but instead one more champion walked through a part in the surrounding crowd. With a great sword in his mighty hands, I knew what was to come.

“Even in death you will not take me Sveas. My soul is not yours.” The champion impaled me to the ground as my vision again blurred.

I was back in the field, lying down as he had, sword in hand. The vision of Rannveig the Death Defiant was still humming in my mind. Even during all of that mayhem, I still felt calm. He felt calm. He did not fear death and, as such, faced it physically head on. I will make sure to honor him as best as I can.

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A Dream and A Daisy

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The ringing of hammer meeting anvil echoed in the lonely smithy. The heat of the forge a comfort in the rainy autumn evening. Sparks flew after each impact and gently floated down as embers. A strong steady hand held the piece in place as the the man worked his craft. Focus, concentration, strength, endurance all cycled in the man’s mind. On the wind a voice danced, “I’m still here”.

The man paused, deafened by the noise of his labor, but still able to hear the whispered words. “You think I’m gone, but you know me better.”

The man looked now through the open door, into the gentle rain, and amongst the foliage appeared a…shape? A human? A wolf? A spirit?

“You run but I will find you. You fight, but you know me stronger. Remember what you were taught.”

Suddenly, the skies darkened and lightning ripped across them, the figure now standing just outside the door to the smithy. The flames of the forge were snuffed out, leaving the man in darkness. Another lightning crack illuminated the creature’s mangled form just moments before them man was struck.

Then a bird chirp echoed in the darkness. Light crept through a window and roused the man in bed. His sweat soaked the linens and his breath galloped from his lungs. He sat up not believing what had happened and questioned what was and wasn’t real. He touched his face where he imagined the strike to have connected and found no scar, no wound, only a memory of the event. He sat for many a minute trying to work what had happened, what meaning there was in this…dream? returned memory? false memory?

He was stirred from his thoughts as the door to his room burst open

“Big Brother!!! Good morning! Did you sleep well?” A young girl bound into his room as sunny as this pleasant early morning.

“Uh, Yeah. I slept fine. How’s our little daisy doing this morning?”

“I’m good. One of Father’s friends came by earlier wanting to talk to me, but he scared me. I don’t want to talk to scary people”

“It’s okay. We can talk to him together another time. Would that be okay? You wouldn’t have to be scared if your big brother’s there” The man gave the little girl a warm smile.

“Hm, maybe. Only if we can get pastries after”

“Haha, alright then.” The man smiled again, but buried in his eyes were the pangs of doubt, anger, and hatred. The girl was right to be afraid, and the man would protect her and the rest of his family with his life.

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I Just Wish This Was Easier

“Why am I talking about him?” I said in bewilderment to my younger sister, Sev. I had not expected her to come to forum, but I guess she had been cooped up in the house for a while now. She did take after her mother a lot, or so it seems. She’s nothing like Dad. She’s more head-in-the-clouds, eccentric, and rambunctious. Many things dad would never allow. God, why am I thinking of him so much. He was so horrible to all of us, Sev probably more than the others. Despite all that, though, I guess he taught us some useful things. Why did I have to inherit his work. It’s just a burning nail of a reminder for me whose trying to live the life he wish he could. It’s so similar to what others saw of him that they see it as the same. It’s not. It absolutely was not. He dealt with coin. He spoke honeyed words to those who would give him money, but saw his own children as cattle, slaves, property. He deceived, or paid off, anyone who would have a second mind about him. He deserves all that came to him. Despite all his going-on about hard work, preparation, vigilance, and all the other bullshit virtues that he hammered into us, he was a bastard. I mean some of those are good things to have. There’s some in town that could use a good lesson or two about hard work. He didn’t even let us be kids, though. From when I could talk, I had a hammer in my hand, or at least a pair of pliers. When all the other kids were out in the mines or out enjoying themselves I was at the smith with him. For good or for ill, he taught me everything I know, and I despise that. I’m an adult now, and only know what he taught me. I don’t know what -I- like, what -I- want to do, only what feels like what he’s worked my mind to like and want.

Fabron takes a big sigh

I can’t let him control me anymore. -I- live for what -I- value and care about. If that’s smithing, that’s not because of him. If that’s caring for -my- family, that sure as hell is not because of him. I-…

I hate him so much, and the only way I see to truly get rid of him is to stop worrying about him.

I just wish it was easier though.

“Hey can I go out into the forest?” Sev asks, snapping me back to reality. How long was I just staring?

“No” Came my practiced response, grimacing at how familiar it sounded.

“Pleeeeease? I’ll be safe” Sev begged.

I glared at her, again in a rather practiced way. Maybe she’d see the pain behind it, or maybe tell from the time it was taking for me to respond that I didn’t want to say no, but only knew this way of taking care of her.

God, I just wish this was easier.

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The Darkness of Death

The Eparch is dying” Lord Hyutyr let out when he entered the tavern.
“WHAT?!” I took off sprinting into the woods, following behind Mother Superior Solace and a few others, including the good doctor Heimir, rushing to Elias’s aid.
My breath left me, I don’t know if it was the shock of the news or the distance and speed I was running but by the time I reached Elias, My head was pulsing, my sides splitting, my legs cramping. I looked to the others at the scene.
“What happened?”
“Hollow Song. They got him. He’s dying”
With that last word, I was left completely breathless as a frenzy of panic set in.
“No, no, no, I can’t save him then, I haven’t learned what I need to, maybe if I-” A pair of strong weathered hands grabbed me by the collar and before me Lord Knutt stared me in the eyes.
“Vernon, not Erasmus, just breathe. Do what you need to do and be there for him. Emotions will come later”
A warm calm washed over me as he let me go. One I had not felt in a long time. I fell to my knees next to Elias and reached for his hand. It dashed and darted as he tried to get the good doctor to stop his ministrations.

Elias spoke his peace to both me and Solace. I felt my vision darkening as he spoke, as the words grew distant. Finally, Solace looked up to the good doctor and spoke, which brought me back to the moment.

“Heimir, Stop.”
“WHAT?!” Heimir exclaimed with a look of shock and disbelief.
“It’s okay… Let him go.” I put a hand on his shoulder, which was quickly ripped away from me as he backed away.
Finally, his thrashing stopped.
“I’m so proud of you both. Lead these people well. Good…bye.” His breath left him, his muscles relaxed, and his hand slipped from my hand. I fell backward into the soft grass behind me. My vision darkened again as I stared at the ground in front of me. I had failed. I couldn’t protect this man of god from the grasp of death. All my efforts and the knowledge I had gained in the past months were not enough. Shame seeped into my mind as once again a voice pierced the darkness

“Vernon, are you alright? Can you stand?” The Voice of the Tempest extended his hand. I stared for a moment and took it. My legs were tree trunks as I stumbled upright, leaning on the kindly skald with sister solace on my other side. The blood returned to my limbs as we moved back out of the forest. Slowly I was able to support myself again to walk, and speak once again.

“Thank you for that. I feel I would’ve been sitting there a while would you have not had said something” I said to him. I looked ahead and saw the good knight Knutt carrying the body we were to bury shortly. My mind blurred. I moved with what felt like practiced actions. They buried him and I gave him a proper funeral. When I was done speaking the rites, I stepped away from the group gathered and kneeled. Again I felt that darkness creep back. This time not blinding, or hindering, just…dark. I heard my name again and snapped back to reality.

“Would you like some time, Brother?” It was the Voice again.
“Uhm, yes please” They left me alone with the darkness, with my emotions. I sat. The doubt seeped in again; The doubt, the shame, the anger. I failed. How was I supposed to lead these people I met not more than 6 months ago? I let them down. I let this good man of God down. I was weak. I chose this life and this is what I get for it. I felt the tears streaming from my unblinking eyes. I clenched them and felt the sting of the cold winter air. I wiped the tears away with my hand and stared.

“Please, guide me on this new path. What is the best thing I can do for these people?” I placed my tear soaked hand on the freshly laid soil and prayed.

“Do your best, Vernon. Learn what you can, lead these people with that knowledge” I heard in my head.

My face was soaked, my eyes red. I stayed just a bit longer to clean myself up a bit. I stood and returned to the people. The people who I would help, heal, and lead. The people who would support me when I needed it, and I would support in turn.

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Memories of a Humble Life

A few years ago

“Vernon, please slow down. You know I’m not as athletic as you” Valter ran to catch up with his friend, fumbling with a bag his mother gave him.
“Yeah, that’s cause you’re always at home with your ma cooking. If you came with any of the gatherers, especially the hunters, I’m sure that’d change real quick”
“There you two are, I was wondering how long everyone was going to wait,” Pasi and Kjeld stood waiting for their friends outside the door to a modest looking cabin.
“I had to convince this one pretty hard to check this out. You know how he worries” Vernon gave a friendly side-hug to Valter, who still seemed nervous about something.
“Yeah, when you said it was some adult thing you heard about, I was with you. Who knows, maybe there’ll be sparing or something” Kjeld punched his fist in excitement.
“F-Fighting? Vernon, you didn’t say anything about that” Vernon sighed.
“I don’t know, they might, but listen. We’ll make sure you don’t get hurt, okay? Right Pasi?”
“Yeah. We’re kinda taking you at your word here, Vernon, but we’re all friends. If something doesn’t feel right, we got each others back” Pasi patted Valter on the back.

They all entered the cabin and were welcomed warmly to this odd group. Members of many clans were there doing things from crafting, eating, some found the ears of other members and were speaking passionately to them, others were sparing in a makeshift fighting ring. Kjeld did pick a couple sparing matches and won about half of them, coming out a bit more bruised than he’d like. Vernon and Pasi were preached to about some pretty obtuse ideas, but some of it made sense to them. Vernon looked for Valter who was seen speaking to another member about his age off in a quite part of the cabin. He smiled as a sense of pride for his friend washed over him.

about 3 months later.

The four were sitting eating a mid-day snack out in the forest together. Since joining this strange group, Valter had started coming more out of his shell and joining the others in the forest.

“I’m excited for our next meeting. I’m hoping I can beat Bjorn this time” Kjeld hopped down onto a log and rummaged through his pack.
“Whenever you two fight, it’s always a bloody mess. I worry one of you isn’t going to make it out alive” Pasi chomped on her trail ration that Vernon’s mom made.
“That’s what Oddi says is the bettering of the soul. Facing your conflicts head on and pushing yourself to the limit” Vernon recalled, shooting a glance at Valter.
“I think that’s supposed to be less literal than what Kjeld does,” Valter mumbled through bites of rations. The others laughed. A smile grew on Valter’s face which then made Vernon smile even more.
“I just hope Hilda doesn’t try and kiss me again. I like talking with her, but she seems to think I want something more. I just like that someone likes doing things at the camp as much as I do” Valter thought out loud, the others listening politely along.
“Yeah, someone just as odd as our Valter” Kjeld ruffled Valter’s hair.
“What, and you’re normal?” Vernon chided.
“For some clans, yes” Kjeld rebutted.
“We’re all a little odd, let’s be honest. That’s what makes us wonderful, though” Pasi intervened.
They all smiled and continued eating their rations.

Present time.

Vernon sat, alone, on a log near a river, reminiscing on these times as he stared into the rushing water. They started creeping back into his mind more and more now as he settled into his new life in Runehiem. He hoped if ever he saw his old friends again, things would be like this again. He had a pit of doubt in his chest that this would not be the case, however.

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A Brother Comes Home

“I’m home!” Vernon projected his voice through the cozy house that had quickly become a home to him.
“Big brother!” Randolph, Ylva, and Embla, his younger siblings came running to warmly welcome him home after an arduous forum with a group hug.
“Well, welcome home, my hard-working nephew. Glad to see everyone made it home safely,” Manning, a middle-aged, but greying man, gave Vernon a warm smile but shot a couple glares at Randolph and Ylva.
“I am, too. You two took quite a risk coming to see me. Between Skógerblóði, the Hollow Song, and the mages, I was worried you wouldn’t make it home,” Vernon nudged his twin siblings roughly.
“Yeah, well, you taught us well. We made it there fine,didn’t we?” Randolph rebutted. Vernon and Manning rolled their eyes.
“Making it past my watchful eye was quite a feat. I was quite a hunter when I was still with the clan,” Maning boasted.
“It wasn’t exactly hard when you were asleep,” the children giggled.
“Also, wasn’t that quite a few years ago? I remember you leaving a lot up to my parents even before you decided to settle down,” Vernon ribbed.
“Oh hush now, I did plenty. And as for you youngsters, isn’t it past your bedtime? I know you wanted to stay up to welcome your brother home, but come now, let’s get you all in bed.”

After Manning got everyone to sleep, or, at least, in bed, he came and sat with Vernon.

“So I hear you’re set to become a priest? I take it those lessons helped?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Vernon sat staring at the fire that was keeping the home warm.
“Ya know it won’t be easy? When’s that ever stopped ya, though” Manning chuckled.
Vernon just sat, deep in thought, still staring at the fire. Manning sighed.
“I miss them, too.” Vernon snapped a look of both shock and a touch of anger at Manning, “I know, I know. What they did was horrible, but they’re still family.”
“I just can’t forgive them. I can’t reasonably expect them to take care of me or anyone for that matter. They’re monsters,” Vernon uttered this cold vitriol, tears forming in his eyes.
“…But you still miss them, don’t you? I see the rations you make and take to forum, hear the stories you still tell your siblings and I’m sure others you meet in town. I can feel it in your heart, Vernon”
Vernon shuddered, despite being comfortably warm, clenched his eyes shut, tears streaking his cheeks, and, finally, turned to his uncle’s shoulder, sobbing.
It was Manning’s turn now to stare into the fire, gently stroking his nephew’s back as the dark of the night grew.
As Vernon’s cries waned, Manning began humming a soft melody to soothe both Vernon’s and his own soul.

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The Woodsman’s Hope

((Sentences or parts of sentences in all capitals seem to be written by a much more frantic and chaotic hand))

The warm summer sun shone down through the verdant canopy as a woodsman, new to this particular area, trudged on through the underbrush. There was a bit of a reprieve from the hotter-than-normal summer Njordir was having in the cool shade of the forest just outside Runehiem, but the evidence of hard work and exertion showed on this man’s clothes and brow. His pack, filled with materials gathered from the land, weighed on his shoulders, albeit still a burden he could bare. His clan taught him well the value of hard work and respect for the land. He ventured toward the top of a hill deep in the woods in search of a vantage point to get a lay of this new land, as well as a place to sit to enjoy his hand-made trail rations.

As he shifts through the brush, steps over fallen trees and rocks, and skips over small sinkholes, he thinks back on his parents. They were so caring and knowledgeable in their craft and taught him much raising him. HE’S JUST SO DISAPPOINTED THAT THEY HAD TO BREAK THE FAMILY APART. They taught him the best mixture of nuts, berries, flour, honey, and just a bit of animal fat to make these trail rations just the right thing for a hungry gatherer. All he’s learned in life has been from either his parents or his clan, EXCEPT VIOLENCE. He still misses them, EVEN THOUGH THEY DID THE UNTHINKABLE. As the woodsman sits on a fallen log atop the hill to enjoy his trail rations, he looks out into the forest and hopes he continues to make friends in this new village. For the short time he’s been here, it’s felt more and more like home AND WHERE HE BELONGS. He sees new paths forming toward bright futures, and not only the one involving taking a priestly vow. As he’s dwelling on the new friends he’s made, he finishes his trail rations and is ready to venture forth again.

He looks back from where he came, and a small ephemeral bird darts across his sight line. It was so quick, even the trained woodsman couldn’t fully catch it. He looks toward where it went and is met with just the typical sight of the dense foliage with several rays of sun piercing through the canopy for illumination. A voice stirs in his mind, “I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR LIFE, EVERY ASPECT OF IT”. He blinks a few times and shakes his head. For good measure, he takes a drink from his water skin, and tries to focus on the voice again. Nothing but the chirping of the birds, the buzzing of insects, and, in the distances, the soft rushing of the river. He says a brief prayer for safety and turns to make his way back to his work and to town. This incident sits uneasy in his mind, BUT AS SOON AS HE LEAVES THE FOREST AND GETS BACK TO TOWN, IT IS OF LITTLE CONCERN TO HIM. He finds peace in his community and the act of helping them with their needs.

Over the next few weeks, during days when he ventures not into the wilderness, the woodsman is found practicing archery in whatever suitable open area is available, mostly out of preparation for the next season’s hunt BUT ALSO YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU NEED TO PROTECT YOURSELF. His thoughts, again, drift back to his parents. His mother was such a dependable hunter and member of the clan, BUT SUCH A DISAPPOINTMENT IN THE END. The clan trusted her with many a folkwise and leaned on her frequently for food and clothing for the winter. WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DO IT? WHY? WHY? WHY? The woodsman, gathering his arrows from his last volley, had tears welling up in his eyes. He wiped his eyes, nocked another arrow, and took just a second to aim. Just before he let the arrow fly, he closed his eyes and let images of hope fill his mind. Next he opened his eyes, he was met with the arrow jutting from the center of the makeshift target. “The light of Benalus is the gateway to hope, the road to salvation. I feel I have hope, so I must be on the right road,” The woodsman mumbles to himself.

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The Voice of the Voiceless: Fleeing

The following is found scrawled in one of Olivier’s journals:

“How are you doing, mon amour? I’m shaking as it is, and he wasn’t my Uncle. I can only imagine what it’s like for you”

“I can’t believe he’s gone either. I didn’t want to kill him. It just happened. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’ll take some time. You know me, I’m not a killer and don’t want to start anytime soon. I just want to create, not kill.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I hope this new place is alright.”

“I’m scared, too. I’m going to miss mother and father. I’m sure Anastasie, will as well. I also hope I can protect the two of you in this new place”

“It all sounds really scary, but also somewhat safe from your father’s reach.”

“I know that sounds harsh, but remember what he did to my mother, to you, and what he said as we were running”

“It was really weird how violent he’s become. He’s always been such a nice man.”

“Remember when he’d get us pastries when we’d watch mother perform in the square?”

“He’d stand up for us too when Gregory and his family would harass us”

“I can’t imagine what would have changed him so much”

“And now we’re running from him. The man who raised you and helped raise me”

“I hope mother and father are alright. At least we’re together, I can’t imagine taking on this journey alone.”

“I know it’s only been a few days, but I already want to go back home”

“I know it would be a death sentence, but at least we would have some kind of happiness until then”

“But what if this new place is as horrible as the stories we’ve heard?”

“You’re right, as long as we’re together, we can do whatever we set our minds to”

“Have you thought about things you want to make? It’ll be around early winter when we arrive, and the Mari Lwyd should be taking place. I’ve been trying to write poetry for the others there”

“A scarf? That sounds great! I would love to wear it. You’re such a thoughtful person, Alexander”

“I love you, too, mon amour”