As they wait to be served, the young elf takes a reasonable pull from his ale (not usually his chosen drink, but in good company..),
"So where would your own leanings take you on the morrow, friend Stellan? I am sure Teacher Dysare would be most glad to see you again?" Or, perhaps more to Steallan's liking:
"She will no doubt have tales of her recent travels as well, to lands strange and distant?" She having just returned from parts unknown and all.
<Response Stellan?>
[A bit later, Bracegirdle residence]
"No worries Master elf! We were happy to have you here. I wish you well on your future endeavors, and with your family. Family is, after all, the most important thing in life. Everything else changes, but those who bore you and you bore yourself, well.. that relationship will always be there."
"In truth... Though often no simpler to manage for all its certainties, I fear. Though in truth there has been some progress there as well this day, at least in my way of thinking?" He shrugs, looking a bit embarrassed:
"I -ah- might possibly write a letter later tonight?"
Antares doesn't find a name in the ledger - it would be unlikely for folks here to do such, as they have very little worry over people stealing such items. He does get the sense that the family did quite well with its trading, as that seems to be what primarily they did. Trading wood that they bought from the loggers to caravans that come by every so often. There is a note from a few days ago, "I hope that the unsettled nature of the town these days doesn't keep the caravans from coming. We would lose everything." Antares does remember that there wasn't any wood in the basement, but a caravan recently came through and based on the last entry, they may have sold all of it to the caravan master.
That might explain the coinage the two unfortunates carried, celebrating their continued fortune when pale darkness broke through from below?
Whatever the case, no other mention of the mysterious LM they were to meet to discuss "sponsorship", and no words even hinting at mysterious noises or scrappings from below -- just the passage he found earlier on
'replacing the collapsed well cover' just a day prior to the attack...
"Disappointing?" he murmurs to himself in the quiet of the night, not sure himself what he was expecting if not this? He lightly flips the ledger closed, contemplating the simple binding, the unadorned cover as it rests on the unassuming solidity of the tabletop... A name would have been nice, that at least this much might live on of former-Anna and her departed husband... Perhaps he should take the time to visit her neighbors sometimes tomorrow, perhaps between meeting with Teacher Dysare and their rendez-vous at the barracks around noon?
Enough delays for now: he has a letter to write, and there is no longer any putting it off!
* * *
The half-candle is but a stub and the night-silence deep indeed by the time he puts quill to his - a look at the scattered, scrunched hempen bodies of his former attempts - he's lost count. This under his quill is an actual peice of parchment though: this will be the final version, whatever he ends up writing here, he will send to his sire!
Keep it simple, Antares:
It has come to my attention in recent days that- (A portion? Some?) -
some of the wisdoms you sought to impart might have- (merit? Practical applications perhaps?) -
deep relevance to - (...activities I am called upon to- No good... Newly acquired responsibilities? His sire did love this particular word... He can't help feeling an unfortunately familiar tightening of deep down reluctance, built layer upon irregularly corded layer over all the years of his young adolescence..) -
the tasks whose burden I have now chosen to gladly carry. (In previous versions he'd always insert something like: 'In addition and as you may have heard, your only son is now a founding member of the Behenian Adventuring Company' after this introductory. But then the core message became muddled as he went into a morass of - he feels - self-justification and the need to show he was indeed not 'wasting his life'! A tap with the quill's feathery end at his lower lip: best to keep it simple indeed, most likely.)
If possible I would wish to discuss this and other matters of some import with you at your earliest convenience. Your - (Loving? Faithful?) -
growing son, signed in wisdom on this 137th day of the Dawning Year: (And he signed with the graceful curves and ornate decorations of the high elven version of his name: )
Mialucee (Lord of the Seeds, as his people traditionally referred to his name-star. His sire and dam had had such hopes...).
He re-read this version -
It has come to my attention in recent days that some of the wisdoms you sought to impart might have deep relevance to tasks whose burden I have now chosen to gladly carry. If possible, I would wish to discuss this and other matters of some import with you at your earliest convenience. Your growing son - etc, etc. He added a comma after possible and then almost crossed out 'gladly', but finally left it as is, only regretting that the Company did not yet have a seal, or even symbol to call its own. He should speak on this with the others tomorrow -- Stellan, in particular, had a love of things heraldic, and some talent with pen and brush as well, when he could be convinced to do more than dream...
He added:
P.S. The messenger will carry reply should you wish to make one in the short term. Else send word to the abode of Garrett Bracegirdle and I will hear. He would send one of the older children out on the morrow -- with adequate compensation, of course. All in town knew where stood his family's tower.
]
