We have just recently finished our errantry in Waymeet, a tiny town in the Shire. The market was definitely a success, with customers from all walks of life and all races coming to look at our wares. We made many a coin, though I myself, did not participate in the selling of the wares.
Hiril Celossiel and I were set to guard the west entrance of the market along the roads, while Amathlan and Hir Jorand were left to the east. Hiril Celossiel and I guarded the road, as well as welcomed all who came to the market. We directed many strangers to the merchants.
Hiril Seregrian and Hiril Hartagin were in charge of selling jewelry, many of which were crafted by Hartagil herself. Cutch was selling various food supplies and wares as well. Even armour was offered to sell.
I am glad for the success, as it brings our company into the good words of those who visited. But that is not quite what I wish to write on. There are other thoughts and worries on my mind tonight…
Hir Jorand is a kind man, a respectful man, who has wielded his sword for the good of the world for many years. But he is aging, and with it, his heart.
I have not spent much time dwelling on the ‘gift’ of man as some call it. It has been many years since I thought of such things. Ages ago I would have wished for such a life, wishing my life could be short so that I would not dwell on terrible memories. But it is different now and I have changed. I know that such a life is not my fate. Now, I realize what acquainting myself with all these men and women of the mortal race will eventually mean.
Hir Jorand seemed fine at the beginning of the market. But when we were celebrating the success at the inn in Michel Delving, things went terribly wrong. I was speaking with Hiril Seregrian and Hiril Gisuna, a new recruit, when Amathlan shouted for me.
At first, I thought Amathlan had done something reckless once more, but it was not he who was in trouble this day. Hir Jorand, the poor man, had fainted on the ground in the back storeroom.
Amathlan was more than worried and Hiril Celossiel looked at a loss. They thought I might be of help, given my background…..but I could not. I could not help……
It is his heart. His heart is beginning to fail him as he grows older. Age….the one thing that still escapes my skills of healing.
Why does that make me so upset, so angry?
Hir Jorand seems to be much like Amathlan in some ways. Both are stubborn and do not want to be treated as if a child. It pains me to know that Hir Jornand probably will not be able stand in battle again, lest he strain his heart once more.
He was incredibly upset at that fact as well. Though I do not blame him. How would I feel and act if I was told I would never be able fight for the good of the world, ever again? What would I do if Amathlan was in this situation?
I have been reading every book in my collection on men and healing, but I have come up empty on any information that might soothe me and Hir Jorand.
I should sleep...I have not slept for need of helping the poor man.
