Pennbor’s Journal: Augt 4 in the year of the Gnat

I have been so weary.

Last night, I finally managed to return to my home. I lit a fire and sat smoking my pipe, my feet up, enjoying the peace of my home.

Slowly it occurred to me that I heard voices. Not just any voices, mind you. These voices were ones I knew well. Indeed, there are times when these voices, and that of their kindred, were like to drive me mad. I sat quietly, hoping against hope that the episode would pass, and I would be allowed a nights peace.

This was not to be. The voices grew louder. They were arguing. One voice was shrill, hot and shrieking invective. The other was cool, sneering and ultimately patronizing. I suffered the voices a bit longer. There was no use, I knew, in attempting to act as peace-maker. Nor, for that matter, was there any use in trying to get the voices to cease. They would cease, but in their own time and in a manner of their own choosing.

Rubbing my eyes I stood and reached into my rune bag. The first stone I touched was hot, almost as if it had come from the hearth. Plucking it from the bag I juggled it between my hands until I was able to walk to the north side of the room. There, on a windowsill exposed to the chill of the night air I placed this stone.

The voices continued.

Next I retraced my steps, reaching into my rune bag and finding what I expected; a stone that could pass unseen as a chunk of ice. Using the bag so as the stone would not harm my hand, I placed it on the mantle over the hearth on the south wall, exposing it to the warmth there.

I squatted as I banked the fire and listened. They were still going at it. Despite the physical distance. Nothing had changed. I stood. From the north came strong hot invective and from the south, chill chidings and sneers.

I gave up and went to my bed. The distance did little to muffle the noise of the argument, just as it did little to prevent it. Eventually, my exhausted body dropped into sleep.

I awoke to a brilliant dawn. The sky: blue. The birds were singing. I threw open the shutters and deeply inhaled lungfuls of the sweet dawn air. I was inspired by the new day.

Then I realized; I no longer heard the argument. It had stopped at some point, in the night. Gingerly, I opened the door that separated the two rooms and looked inside.

Just as I had left it, the hot stone sat on the north windowsill, silent and cool. The other stone, which I had placed on the southern hearth, appeared to be nothing more than a sliver of rock. I knew better. I began to tiptoe into the room.

And then I noticed it. It was impossible to miss, to be sure. At some point during the evening, as the strong, hot invective from the north flowed forth and slammed into the cold, cruel sneers from the south . . .

. . . it had rained inside my home.

Pennbor’s Journal: Augt 3, in the year of the Gnat

“Okay. So, I’m all like: Okay. I hear you’ve been looking for me, like, whats up A-gon?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he’s all like: Yes, I have, there is a great need in the realm and stuff.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And so I’m all like: Okay A-man, lay it on me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he’s all like: The sword that once was busted needs to be fixed.”

“Uh-huh”

“Okay, and so then I’m like: So whats that got to do with me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he’s like” You must take the shards to some dude and get him to agree to fix it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Right? So then I get mad, and I’m all like: Look at me. Do I have UPS tattooed on my forehead? What? Am I your delivery b*tch now? Why don’t you send that dwarf and that elf to do it? They’re just standing around in the other room staring off into space, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he gets all: You must complete this quest for me, the entire fate of the upcoming war may depend on it…”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then I’m all like: Whats that? You trying to guilt-trip me now? So, like, what if I don’t? You mean to tell me that you won’t go out and find someone else to schlep your hardware to the repair shop? Why should I go? What’s in it for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then he says: If you don’t do this, you can’t get the rest of the quests in this quest line.”

“So that’s when I looked at him, took the damn bundle and said: Uh-huh.”

Pennbor’s Journal: Jum 29 in the year of the Gnat

It’s been many weeks now and still no sign. No help.

I come to wonder why I try?

Pennbor’s Journal: Jum 9 in the Year of the Gnat

Funny.

Spent much of the day walking, it was a good day for walking. So I did.

So funny.

As I walked I felt the breeze through my hair and the sun shine down on my face.

Funny.

About mid-afternoon, rounding a bend in the road I again spied an incredibly huge and green patch of Rhubarb. Startled by its proximity my first thought was this:

“There it is again! Is it stalking me?”

Rhubarb.

Stalk-ing.

Sometimes, I just make myself laugh.

Pennbor’s Journal - Jum 8th in the year of the Gnat

It’s been several days since I’ve been able to summon up the courage to again put my thoughts into this missive. Today the weather was cool and not at all damp. The sun, when it shown, was warm upon my face. The Rune bag was surprisingly light on my belt for most of the day. I’ve made camp here near the forest.

Sitting by the fire, quieting my own breath, I can reach out and pierce through the night’s uneasy calm.

Distantly, I can hear the rustle made by a hungry creature as it slinks through the forest. Hungry. Hungry.

Hungry. It’s hung

I have not, nor will I ever claim the life of a cub, pup or calf. I have not. I never shall. Never.

No one can coerce me to do otherwise.

Pennbor’s Journal - Faye 27th in the year of the Gnat

On this day, I have taken many lives. Most of everything that crossed my path was evaluated, challenged and slain. I was merciless, refusing to give my targets even the smallest of chance of survival. From Warg to bear, from bat to barghest I destroyed them and I reveled in the sheer bliss of the power that came from the runes.

Then, there was the hillcat.

A pitiful, pathetic thing, but nonethless having crossed my path, it too met its fate. As the runes marked it, it must have sensed something amiss, for it turned directly to me. That stare lasted a few moments untill the fire leapt from my hands and burned much of the coat from its flesh. As I felt the energy that emenated from the runes switch aspects and begin to crystalize the very air around me, the hillcat reacted in a manner that surprised me.

It charged.

Cold. Shock. Shock. Fire. Shock. Cold.

It kept coming. Dragging itself forward on bent and burned legs, it reached my very feet before collapsing on its side. I watched it fall, ripped nearly in two by the final frigid blast from the runes. At that very moment, it seemed to me that the world around us began to slowly shrink. I stood still as I watched the beast’s breathing become shallow and labored. The world around me continued to shrink and contract until it seemed that there was nothing left in it but the dying hillcat and I.

I stood there, the pulsing and throbbing runes still in my hands, as I watched it raise it’s head for the last time. The runes were angry. I could feel the strength of their malice raise higher inside me, urging me to strike. Now. Do it now! Finish it!

As I stood there, the dying hillcat raised its battered head for the last time and in doing so, our eyes met. I fell. And just before my eyes closed and I hit the soft loam of the hillside, I could hear it howl. I could hear it scream.

I heard it die. I joined its scream with my own.

I awoke a few hours ago, as I write this. It was dark. I was too weak to travel much further, so I set up my camp against the nearby hillside. After tending to the fire, I took a torch and walked back to the spot I’d fallen. The hillcat was there. It was dead, of course. Its fur was burned, and crusted with blood. One leg was sheared off cleanly at the hip, most likely the result of one of the shocks i sent to it.

I stood there. I listened to the whisper of the wind through the trees. I regarded the corpse of the hillcat.

I returned to my camp. I was weary. The rune-bag was heavy on my belt, heavier than it would usually be. I stood by the fire and took several deep breaths. I heard the soft murmuring of the wind. I heard the gentle words from the runes; it had been a long day, it was allowable to be weary.

Sleep.  Rest. The runes will soon succeed and I will slip into sleep, but there is one last entry I must put in here, before I am rendered incapable.

Just this thought:

On this day, I have taken many lives. Most everything that crossed my path was evaluated, challenged and slain.

Yet I am left with the truth, as I sit here writing and preparing for sleep, that I have not won every battle this day.

Pennbor’s Journal - Faye 24nd in the Year of the Gnat

Traveling through some rough country today, spied something green up ahead. Obscured by a large outcropping, could not see what it was until was almost on top of it.

Rhubarb.

But not just any Rhubarb. This was a big rhubarb.

Big?

This patch was huge! This perennial was of epic proportion! The stalks of the thing were as much around as my thigh! It was a breathtaking, awe-inspiring clump of polygonaceae.

Standing there gaping, I noticed that the leaves of the plant moved to and fro in the wind.

There was no wind.

I was frightened.

I ran away.

Pennbor’s Journal - Faye 22nd in the Year of the Gnat

If I am to be honest and, in truth, there is no reason why I should not be so here, I would be forced to admit that at times I cannot help but to confront myself  with the thought that I may very well be insane. Certain others I have encountered have surely come away convinced that this is the case. My family, would that they could, have me bound hand and foot and tossed into the hold of a westward vessel.

Westward. To vanish from these lands forever. Over the sea.

Such is cause for some measure of alarm, on my part, as I am sure you would agree.

The truth of the matter is that I am not insane. Nor am I willing to allow myself to be removed from this Middle-Earth at the whim of those who know nothing of, and do not appreciate, my plight. Let them flee as mice down a doomed ship’s rope.  Let them forsake their purpose and remove themselves from the urgent business that still concerns them here. Let them scatter.

Let them run.

I shall not run. I shall not hide nor cower in the west.

I shall follow my purpose to the end. I shall honor my end of the bargain, even as my brethren do not.

I shall remain true to who and what I am. In doing so, I shall again be made whole. In doing so, I shall finally find peace. In doing so, I shall finally be safe.

I know that this, in the end, will be my fate.

I know this, because the runes whisper to me and tell me that it will be so.