4th February 353

Empath Abbey: between two worlds

It had taken him over 18 months to write his story into 10 volumes. He could hear the wind howling outside the abbey, and from one of the north-facing windows he could see waves breaking wildly on the shore. He shuddered. He had one more task before leaving, to find a Militia Guardsman to give the bag containing his uniform, a sum of gold and an explanatory note. He had been carrying this around with him ever since he had resigned, seemingly an age ago, when he had passed through Stonekeep and found nowhere to leave it. All this time he had been waiting to come across someone to hand it to.

Just then he heard the sound of a mailed soldier entering the abbey and he smiled at how sometimes the thought produces the event. He left his room and saw it was indeed a guardsman, a footman - the rank he had himself attained. He approached and saw it was a lady, and handed her the heavy bag of equipment. He was taken aback by her hint, after she had read his note, that he may be marked as a deserter, but she was friendly enough.

So thats done! Smaed sighed. He had felt for a moment while talking to the footie the tug of the past, a kind of longing or reaching out, to become the Waywatcher he had once dreamed of as a 15 year old recruit. But he knew as a half-elf he could not go back. He had received no reply yet from Jern, and truth be told he had no great wish to return to Trinsic at this time. He felt a strong need first to find his place in the world, and then perhaps he might be ready to face his mother. He felt he was at some sort of crossroads in his life.

He went into the chapel and sat in contemplation for a while, fingering the wooden ankh he bore on a chain round his neck, wrestling with conflicting emotions. Then suddenly he knew what he should do: he had to return to Silverleaf and there make a clear choice of paths.

He waited a few days until the storm passed and a chill sun, low on the horizon, shone bleakly, making the rine frost glint. The following day he bade farewell to his scribe friend, Conrad, telling him where he was going. Then he set out well before dawn on the coastal path he had trodden before, arriving at the riven dell far into the night, under a diamond-filled sky, the waxing moon so bright that it cast shadows.

All was quiet, yet the village was well-cared for and indeed had grown. There stood now a shrine behind the tavern - a shrine to the Virtues, the sign clearly showed in the moonlight. He went in and was surprised to see that it had rows of benches facing a large Ankh, a bit like his once beloved Stonekeep Church!

He sat for a few moments on one of the benches and enjoyed the tranquility and the lighter effect of the marble interior contrasting to the stern gothic stone of the Militia church, smiling to himself. His decision to return had been right.

He would wait and hope to meet his father or one of the other villagers on the morrow.

66th August 353 Stratics Reckoning

Silverleaf: the end of the Yew swamp

The spring and summer both passed, with Silverleaf Village appearing to be deserted. Smaed left messages for his father but later learned from Riva that the populaton had sadly declined. Thalandor himself was away on a long scouting trip and with autumn rapidly closing in on these high latitudes Smaed prepared to overwinter in Silverleaf. But how long should he wait?

Then one day in late August, Riva had some astonishing news. The Yew Swamp had disappeared, and in its place was the old forest, complete with ancient yew trees! Smaed had to see for himself, so he would return to the abbey and overwinter there.

He told Riva his plans and left the next morning, arriving to find that it was true. The swamp was gone, and the forest had regenerated magically to a fully-developed part of the Deep Forest, complete with ancient full-grown yew trees. How was this possible? The Yew Militia, he knew, had worked on ridding Yew of the swamp. He had joined some of the attempts: to cut down the stinking blue-fruit trees, and to eradicate the evil swamp-spawn. But this regeneration can only have been done with magics: yet the Yew Militia abjured witchcraft of all kinds...

He would explore properly before winter set in.


6th September 353

Empath Abbey: death of a friend

While in the abbey, Smaed looked for his old friend of some 10 years standing - the scribe Conrad. But he could not be found. There were many new monks and scribes in Empath whom he recognised not. He asked one of these, Allyn the monk, who told him that Conrad had died that spring. She had been at the deathbed vigil and recounted the virtues for him, taking his confessions and last wishes. Among these was a letter for Smaed from his cousin Jern that had arrived just before Conrad's health had failed him.

Smaed was greatly saddened by the loss of his old friend who had taught him his letters when he first came to Empath as a 15-year old militia recruit. He picked some flowers and went to the chapel where he laid them in memory of Conrad, kneeling in silent contemplation and shedding a tear.

Smaed then read Jern's letter. Agnes was still away, now in Vesper and travelling south to Britain. Jern had a fine new home outside Trinsic, Ye Olde Poste Office, that he had named The Serfs´ Shop given to him by an elven lady called VanQa whom he much esteemed. He had much other news and begged Smaed to write and visit soon. Smaed felt the tug of family ties in Trinsic and determined he would make that great journey as soon as he had completed his business here. He would write in the dark of winter and send the letter in the spring. But first there was much to investigate here.

Yew Town: a strangeness in the air

In the following days, as the autumn colours began to blaze where before there had been but stinking swamp, Smaed scouted. The weather was stormy and unsettled, Golden birch leaves flurried in the air. New roads had appeared and Yew Town was now clearly discernable as a collection of huts and shops around a square. The land seemed strange and unstable, with invisible barriers blocking the way in unexpected places, that seemed to shift from one day to the next. A shimmering force, like to a moongate, appeared but at different times seemed to relocate mysteriously. Swamp denizens abounded, appearing angry and aggressive in their new forest home and it was dangerous to be abroad in such conditions, as fleeing from a Swamp Thing one might be unexpectedly blocked by an invisible barrier and slain.

As the days, passed the instability increased and Smaed was abroad less, it becoming increasingly unsafe. Yet adventurers appeared in growing numbers, some dressed garishly and mounted on bizarre creatures like giant beetles. He tried talking to some but all seemed engrossed in their own businesses.

Something strange was clearly happening, something that Smaed felt was momentous and of history in the making. The swamp's replacement by a fully-grown yew forest, he realised, was just one portend among many. He watched and waited, making occasional forays into Yew town to scout and observe.

67th September 353

Elves arrive in Yew

Then one morning Smaed awoke and lay with his eyes closed. Listening, he could hear that the wind had dropped and all was quiet. He snapped his eyes open and quickly rising, went to a wind-eye to look out. It was a beautiful autumn dawn. The sun shone out of an azure sky on a forestscape of gold and yellow and red and brown, showing autumn in all its magnificence. He flung open the wind-eye and the stillness was striking.

Quickly he dressed and marked how ravenously hungry he was. He bought several loaves of bread from the abbey provisioner and bolted them down, but was still hungry. He bought and ate several more before he felt full.

Leaving the abbey he headed for the town of Yew. The barriers were gone, as were the bog denizens, not one did he see, not even a giant rat. The earthquakes and airquakes that had troubled the forest all through september had stilled and all was wondrously beautful. Yet the traffick was if anything heavier than ever: men and women in garish costumes and mounted on neon-coloured giant beetles rushed about, a jarring contrast to the silent beauty of the forest.

There in the middle of Yew Town he stopped and gaped. A strange silver portal shimmered in the sunlight, its form unclear from its rythmic rise and fall. Unlike any moongate it was, or even witchcraft recall portals. He could see numerous adventurers running into the portal and vanishing before his eyes, while yet others appeared from it as it were out of nowhere and raced away into the forest.

By the portal stood a tall and haughty elf, dressed as an emissary or ambassador. Smaed approached to ask what was going forward. But he received no reply. He returned to the Abbey in the late afternoon and enquired there. Unusually among the contemplative monks, the abbey was abuzz with excited conversation. Smaed learned that the portal in the centre of Yew Town led to an elven community in a mighty tree. It was hard to comprehend. The elves had come to Yew!

But Smaed was too tired to think of what this might mean, and he was ravenous again. He bought and consumed large quantities of bread. He would explore the portal on the morrow. Then lying down, he fell immediately into a deep sleep.


68th September 353

The Elven Treetown, and a chance meeting with Kaine

Smaed rose early to another glorious autumn day. Ravenously hungry again, he bought several loaves of bread and bolted them down before setting off to the portal.

He arrived in the centre of Yew and stood watching the portal for a while. Now when it came to the moment of truth he felt divided. As a lowly teenage footman he had been through many moongates and also gates summoned by Militia soldier-priests casting witchcraft spells, yet he did so under orders. Now faced with the voluntary use of a portal he hesitated. All his background as a child in Leafsta and as a youth in the Militia had taught him that magicks were not to be trusted. It took him some time for his curiosity to overcome a lifetime of mistrust. Taking a deep breath he stepped into the portal.

The sounds of the forest disappeared, and he found himself in a long narrow way, as if it were the inside of a treetrunk. He stood a while, wide-eyed with wonder and some fear. Elves stood around, offering quests of varying sorts that Smaed ignored. Many adventurers walked or rode up and down this throughway. Numerous bags and pouches lay around, filled with weapons - bows of many kinds being the most common. Here were also rings and bracelets, doubtlessly magical, and other items, all for the taking. Ignoring these he followed the main trunk to where it branched.

There out of the corner of one eye he thought he recognised one of the Silverleaf elves hurrying by. A few moments later he returned and greeted Smaed warmly: Kaine the Silverleafstan alchemist!

It was a glad meeting. It had been long since Smaed had met a Silverleaftan other than Riva, the tavern barkeep. He asked after his father and they talked for a while of Silverleaf and of the elven treetown. Then Kaine asked Smaed if he wanted to do the quest that would gain him recognition as an elf, and if so that he, Kaine, who had completed the quest, would guide him.

Smaed accepted gratefully, despite some misgivings. He had not known of such a quest and it was a big step to take, yet the offer was generous and could not be refused. Here he had a chance to decide his identity - man or elf - and end this half-existence, in which he was neither one nor the other. To be accepted as a member of the elven race - even as a half-elf - was tempting indeed, and here was the chance! Would this be the moment of decision when he would choose his path - man or elf - and decide his identity?

54th October 353

The Lycaeum, Moonglow: I claim my elven heritage

Kaine guided Smaed through the various quests that needed to be completed before he could claim his elven heritage. Without the good Kaine's help it would not have been possible, for it required that Smaed travel through magic gates leading to the right locations. The Silverleaftan alchemist also watched over Smaed, aiding him with healing magics as he completed the distateful task of exterminating a whole pack of wolves.

The final quest completed, they gated to Moonglow to visit Darius in the Lycaeum. Stripped of everything, Smaed presented himself for the transformation. When it was done, Smaed gasped in astonishment as he saw and felt the changes that had taken place in himself.

He stood long in thought and meditated on what he had done. Then slowly his cheeks flushed as a smile dawned then spread across his face, as a sunrise that brings light and understanding. His eyes cleared and the care-lines on his face faded as if he had made a decision and felt it was right. He drew himself up to his full height and spake in a loud and clear voice:

I felt healed and as one with my fate, and tears of bliss ran down my cheeks. I no longer felt torn between two worlds, and resolved that from now on I would write my story entries in the first person.

Kaine gated us to Silverleaf. A new life was beginning.

17th November 353 SR

Becoming a citizen of Silverleaf

The last few weeks I have been exploring the elf side of my nature. It has many advantages, including giving me greater dexterity and the ability to move more quietly. One change I appreciate less is the loss of night-time. Nights appear like day to me now, and I used to enjoy walking the forests with a lantern to light my way. But the learning of magic is a blessing. The world shrinks to the size of a house, thanks to gating.

But the most memorable for me was may acceptance as a villager in a simple ceremony held by its lord, Phoenix, making me a scout of Silverleaf. I have lived here since I first found the village in the riven dell in the spring of 351, two and a half years ago - an eventful period of my life. Aegnor, the village bowyer, equipped me with clothing and an elven composite bow, everything made with his skilled hands. I met my father briefly, too. All is well. I am content and at peace.

I have also been talking to the elves of the Heartwood and agreeing to take on quests, the boar-cull being the first of a number. I have been ranging widely to familiarise myself with the new landscape, the forest that replaces the swamp. Mighty and ancient yew trees have sprung up everywhere, thanks, I now know, to the mightly magic of the elves! The bog denizens appear to have all gone, and all is calm and peaceful: wonderful!

Increasingly my thoughts turn to my mother and cousin in Trinsic. I must visit them soon. I need only step through the gate...

New Year's Day 354 SR

The marvel of magic

Equipped with a runebook from the well-ordered coffers of The Silverleaf Tavern, for the first time in my life I experienced the wonder of recall: instant transpositioning without summoning a gate! How did I manage before? I've been using recall to visit places, and before yule I recalled to the other end of the world, enjoyed a drink and congenial company at The Trinsic Rose before recalling home. Quite unbelievable!

At The Trinsic Rose I met the fair Lady VanQa whom Jern thinks highly of, and also her husband, Miguen. I still struggle to speak elvish: in my mid-20s it is too late for me to lose my yewish accent. Jern mentioned that, like me Miguen was half-elven, and has much wisdom. Also like me he has brown hair and a similar complexion: I feel the kinship. Must speak to him alone some time about being half-elven.

I also visited Cove for a ceremony for the retirement of Commander Eason. Jern had been invited but it was too far for him to go, so I went in his stead to represent the Frettings. With magic it was easy enough using the moongates. Many people, some clearly famous. The Yew Militia arrived and interrupted Eason's farewell address with accusations. Hard words were exchanged: I caught but snatches of conversation from my seat at the rear. I recognised one of the guardsmen, Daven, who healed me when I first arrived in Stonekeep but who later tormented me. The remembering was not good. Fighting broke out, arrows flew, one narrowly missing me. I recalled home, 'twas not my fight. I later learned that Commander Eason was killed resisting arrest.

The marvel of magic - it has changed my life...

15th January 354 Stratics Reckoning

Silverleaf Village: making a home
Kaine showed me a fine vacant site for my home on a cliff headland on the north bank of the riven dell west of the shrine/library. It is on the cliffs, with sea-views to both the west and the north, as well as south across the dell in which I can see other village buildings and hear Silverleaf brook as it tumbles over falls on its way to the sea. By the site springs a freshet that joins the brook, so sweet water is plentiful and close at hand.

Here will be my home. I have acquired the plot and have begun planning my house. It will have two floors. The ground floor will be traditional yewish stone, the one above it of elven design, to reflect the foundation of my life as a human and my new elven life growing from it.

There is much to do, and this is a time of great joy and content.


38th January 354

A visit to Smedly Herbwood's country cottage
Began scouting as part of my duties and came across a delightful country cottage with a millrace, on the coast immediately west of the Yew Flour Mill, the home of Smedly Herbwood. Fine garden, too. The name is vaguely familiar from my Militia days when I used to visit Underhill, though I had never met him. There was no sign of the owner, so I signed the guestbook and left for Yew Town to sell some skins and cuts of meat from my hunting.

Came back again the next day and pushed on further west along the coast. On my way home I passed the cottage and there, on the bridge over the stream running from the millhouse, stood one of the little folk, a bare-footed halfling. He held a lit lantern, from which I understood that it must be night-time for those races who have not the nightsight.

It was none other than Mr Herbwood: we introduced ourselves, I praised his fine home and we chatted amicably a while, before I continued eastward to overnight at the abbey.


11 February 354

Silverleaf: thoughts on my half-elven status
Accepting my elven heritage brought with it some immediate changes, notably faster reactions, a greater in-tuneness with nature, and the loss of darkness (and despite its advantages, I do regard it as a loss, especially not seeing the moons so clearly). But I recognise I am still more human than elf in the way my upbringing and life-experiences have formed me. In some ways they are the same, especially my love of the forest that all Leafstans bear.

So now when I come to make my home here in this elven village that I have come to love, I find that I am more comfortable with a traditionally-built home. I know that my elven villagers are rebuilding their homes in the elven style, using the materials and designs of the Heartwood, and they hope that I will do likewise. Yet the elven style is grand and princely. One day I will come to feel comfortable with it, but my humble human beginnings and simple life have ill-prepared me for such a change. I hope my villagers and especially my father will be patient with me.

I expect it may take some years for me to adapt. But time passes quickly in Sosaria, so I see no problem in accepting who I am, a half-elf whose human side is still very much to the fore, and so to allow my elven nature to bloom and take its place in my life at its own natural speed.

Jern knows remarkably much about elves. It was only after yuletide when I visited his favourite watering-hole, The Trinsic Rose, that I realised how this can be. Miguen Half-Elven, in particular, is one I wish to speak with more. Jern recounted how Miguen told that whether a half-elf has the life of the eldar or not depends on whether he or she embraces his elven nature or rejects it. I do embrace my elven heritage. Yet I do not reject my human nature either. I am content to let nature take its course and integrate my elven nature with my human side. Perhaps this patience and long-sight is a sign of my growing elvishness. Time will tell.