By Valgari Silverpalm (Gar)
I have spent some time meditating upon my recollections of what I experienced while fleeing [MINE]. I cannot be sure if what I remember is real, or simply the creations of an exposure-addled wit. But I feel that commiting these things to parchment may help in my finding what meaning I can.
I had fallen, but one time of many that I can remember and likely many I cannot. My stomach ached, my eyes burned, my head pounded. My head hung limp off the edge of the narrow rock bridge spanning a crevasse - so deep, my eyes refused to focus on its depth. I heard, or imagined I heard, a clinking echoing off the canyon walls. In my delierium, it sounded of nothing less than Master Rungyof at his forge as I heard so often before from my room off the main house.
I stumbled to my feet, and found a path - little wider than a mountain goat could place a hoof on. It ran across the sheer cliff face of the crevasse, as far as I could follow it until my vision swam that I had to look away. I was compelled to follow this path and I know that I did not die in the effort - if effort I truly made - as I am alive now to write you about it.
At the end of the path, I found a cave. This was the source of the forge-sounds. I stepped inside and, once my eyes adjusted, followed the dim glow I could see eminating from the depths. I emerged into a forge the likes I have never seen. Creatures, at once familliar and strange, worked matierials I could not identify from long troughs of running molta and water. I remember trying to take in the scale of the forge when my vision doubled, blurred, and I faded into unconsiousness.
I fadded into and out of the waking world, like the tide upon the shore. Each time, I was lying on pallate of simple straw in a small chaber lit with a faint blue-green glow. I felt no pain or discomfort, although I still knew hunger and thirst. There was the suggestion of a window carved into one wall, but the glow did not come from there - as far as I could tell the glow did not have a source.
When I slipped into wakefullness, I was often alone but at times, there was someone in the room with me - always someone I knew. At times, Master Rungyof was there, making sounds of pride and encouragement in his gruff, raspy yet still commanding way. Some times, Mother was by my side, worried and protective. Even, occasionally, you were there Father - my memories of those times I will cherish until I leave this body.
The last time I awoke in this room, there was a presence that I knew without ever having felt it before. He to whom I had always tithed and prayed - Scyndar. He spoke. Not in words - but the message he gave me has formed itself into my current plan. To continue to travel and learn - and that eventually my purpose will be made clear.
The next time I awoke, I was huddled in a small cave off the side of a road leading out of mountains I did not recognize, yet knew which direction I needed to go to find a town. I was covered by a simple tarp, which I knew to fold and leave in the alcove for some future traveler as much as I now knew my way. For three days, I walked only stopping to sleep beside the road at night - without hunger, thirst or other discomfort.
As soon as I reached the Adventurer's Guild, I found that whatever charm or malise of the mind was wearing thin. I ate like a wild animal, drank like a fish, and slept through a full day from sundown through to sunrise of the following day. It was shortly thereafter I was contacted and hired for my current assignment and wrote you last.
I have not yet told even the clergy about this experience. You are my sole confidant, Father. However, I cannot tell if I believe my memory of what happened to me. In either case - I offer my prayers and tithes with more honest devotion then ever before in my young life. And I am keeping an eye out, perhaps for the first time in my life, for opportunities as they arise.
Divine plan or not, I hope to bring pride to your legacy, honor to your name, and grandchildren to your line.
Love and Honor,