Dear Dawson,
Home is not a place. I’m sure you’ll recall that discussion we had with Mom and Dad when those roving bandits were spotted too close to the village and they brought up possibly having to go away for a while. They said as long as we were all together that it would be home, and while we struggled with that at the time, it was true. Since the day I last saw your face, home has been out of reach. Even if I had been able to keep our family’s house, without you there it would not have been the same. Purchasing a house of my own has given me a base and a level of security knowing that, once I repay the loan, it will be a place that is mine, no one else’s, and can not be reclaimed or called upon for a debt. Despite knowing that and having settled in comfortably, it still hasn’t quite been home. Not in the same way we had growing up.
I think realizing this, and all the things I’ve learned about Elven society since I came here, has really prompted quite a bit of reflection recently. Much of which has been done while strumming on that lute I have been learning to play. It’s quite relaxing. I get why you used to just sit around strumming the strings aimlessly while you thought. Perhaps thanks to the sheer amount of time spent reflecting, I am finally able to play a tune well enough that I don’t dread anyone overhearing me. I even started writing lyrics to the tune you used to play.
Did you know that the Elven Queen is not born into the position like human nobles, but chosen for her competence and being the person who can best serve her people? Actually, all the titles within their society are earned by deeds. Also, if you do misdeeds that hurt others there is a whole justice system to judge and punish that behavior, regardless of how high you may be. And if the offense is bad enough, the punishment can even take away their immortality. It literally cuts off their connection to their gods, the Valar.
The more I learn about their society and how it works, the more frustrated I become with our own. Nobles gain their title not by merit but through birth and are often allowed to abuse the privileges of that power without taking any of the responsibility over those they hold power over. All the while they play lipservice to gods who, as far as I can tell, allow this behavior to continue without consequence, at least during life. There are exceptions to this, I know. The world does not often deal in absolutes. But… those shouldn’t be exceptions, but the norm. We -should- expect those who are given power to step up and serve their community, and those who fail to follow those ideals and oaths they swore should be held accountable regardless of rank or title. I can’t help but think that the Elves, unsurprisingly considering their experience and wisdom, have a far better system. I know you will not like hearing this, especially given how connected you felt to Adalia, but I never felt that sort of connection to our gods, as you know. I think perhaps it is all of this I’ve written about, unconsciously mixing in the back of my thoughts without form till recently when I spent the time to really consider it. I’m afraid my disconnect with them has only become wider since I saw you last.
I write to you about this, not to upset you or pick a fight but because I feel you need to know in order to understand what I write next. In Arandor, there is a group that was created of those who have been granted a certain level of trust to the Elves, a Friend to all of Arandor as the proclamation read. At least, I think it read that… it was written in Elvish and I had to ask the bank teller to translate it for me. He could have completely made something up and I’d have no clue. I really do need to learn Elvish… Anyways, those who receive this title of sorts are then considered to be in a group called the Silver Bough, and I recently was proclaimed a member. It is a -much- bigger deal than I thought at first, and I’m quite certain at least one of the Elves I see fairly often has been getting no small amount of amusement from my cluelessness in this matter. One of the things I am allowed to do now, given this new status, is swear fealty to Arandor. I know what you’re thinking and I am not being impulsive. I’ve thought about this a lot, and have even heard the oath in its entirety so that I can make an informed decision. It is not as strict as the vow the Elves give to Arandor. I will not have to forsake all else for the nation. However, it is an oath of loyalty in friendship, and a commitment to aid. Tharion was very careful how he phrased things so as not to influence me one way or another when he explained how it worked. All that said, I have decided to go ahead and swear the oath before their stone later this week.
I realize that all I’ve written is not something you would necessarily be pleased to hear. You know my disapproval for the noble system which, if it had been public in Keth could have caused me some trouble. Somehow I doubt you would be understanding of what I’ve said about the gods, which is essentially blasphemy. While I feel my friends will understand, I don’t know how other humans will react if they learn of all this, and I’m certain the Order would not be happy if they knew that I’d started trying to pray to Elven Valar rather than our own gods. I especially don’t want to tell Malik. He has been very kind and apparently is very close to the gods. I have respect for him, but I can’t imagine anything he would say that would allow me to feel connected to the gods of our parents after all this time. Not the way I feel drawn to the Valar. And I do not wish to be at odds with him, or disappoint those I care about. At the same time, I also wish to be true to these feelings and to myself. Because, brother… in the time I was considering whether to swear this oath, questioning our societal structure and religion, I realized that whenever I thought of all the Elves I’ve met and how their society works and the Valar… it just felt right. Like somehow it all aligns and makes sense in ways that everything up to this point did not.
In the moment, when I made the decision to swear the oath to Arandor, it felt like something clicked. As if I’d found the place where I fit. I found home.
Brother, I truly hope that as you read this you will take the time to consider all my words and can find a way to accept how I feel and my decisions. I wish I could have you here before me so we could talk this out and I could be sure that I explained it all properly. That we could finish the debate I know would happen and know for sure you supported me in this endeavor. Even though you are not with me here, I keep you in my heart… and it would break to think that such a thing as this could cause a rift between us.
I love you,
Forever and always…
Matilda Dawnvale
PS:
If you’re still reading and haven’t crumpled it up in a fit of rage…
Do you remember when we were about eight and would play pirates? You would always shout “Fire the Cannons” and insist that I got hit with a cannon ball and exploded. Then you’d tell me I had to be dead, because you can’t survive being blown up, and I would tell you I’m tough enough to survive and then we’d argue till Mother came out and distracted us with baked goods. I can finally say… I win. I am tough enough to explode and survive.
How can I possibly know that? Well, I’m glad you asked! Earlier this week I volunteered for a patrol into a place that is literally so hot you’re swimming in your own sweat under your armor. This place is inside a volcano, and the lava inside -is alive-! It forms up into these elemental creatures that summon even smaller lava creatures who explode. There were several high ranking Shadowclan members, some of which just summoned fields of fire from thin air, and a huge terrifying dragon that caused terror and summoned venomous drakes. All of these required an entire well trained Elven Lance to subdue. Alre is an elf who I promised to lend my bow to in exchange for some of the Winterfrost Ale he brewed. (He tried to trade just for company and conversation, but I enjoyed talking to him so much it felt as if I was getting rewarded twice so I renegotiated for this instead.) Rounding out the rest of the Lance was Azoth, Sorren and Airdan, all of whom are extremely skilled. I was worried that I’d somehow hold the group back considering my lack of experience, but I think Whisper and I managed to be of more help than hindrance.
Anyways, back to my winning… At the bottom of the cave system we came across this being called Igneos who looked as if they were heat incarnate. If heat itself could take form and then pick up weapons and attack, that would be this creature… demon... being. As an archer, I’d managed to stay back from most of the fire up till this point, save the bits that those fiends kept throwing my way. Thank goodness for the trinket that the Elves lent me to help protect against that. The problem was, apparently Igneous as the magic ability to actually make a person explode. He just sort of.. Pointed in my direction at one point and I could actually feel that something ominous was about to happen and that the time was closing in. I motioned for Whisper to stay put and I ran, as fast as I could, far away from her and the Lance… and I’m so glad I did. I am not exaggerating when I say that it was an explosion… and while I find great joy in being able to say I was right when we were eight, I think I would have rather never been able to do so. It hurt, as you can imagine. And I am still cutting off little singed ends to my curls that I keep finding.
I would go in again to aid my comrades and friends, but I truly hope from the bottom of my being to never again know what that feels like.
PPS: I’m fine. Our healer is very good at what he does.