Cuileth has grown great with child, and I have grown great with worry, it seems. While I know this child is nothing short of a gift, I cannot help but think that I will be unable to rise above the standard set by my father, which I know all too well was... low.
I came home this afternoon to find Cuileth slumbering and when I woke her, she was as disoriented as I. She spoke of a dream she was in the midst of and confided in me that she glimpsed our child in the near future. I am very aware of the power of such visions, and this one was no exception.
She described this child as being a sire, and this I thought to be no coincidence. She claimed him to be very fair and to be a great warrior, a vocation of which runs strongly in my ancestry. She said that he would one day take up the lovely armor that she once gave me upon our courting.
The one question that I most wanted answered was whether this child, this son of mine, will fly far and above the dark things that weigh me to the ground, for I would wish no such thing upon him in all my years, for the love I bear for him is already growing deeply within me. Thoron, I have called myself all my life in spite of the things I battle with and, in the sincerest hope that my son shall be free of them, he shall be Lainthoron. I can only continue to pray that it shall be accurate.
