Goldgel

I saw a ghost tonight in a manner of speaking, two people that were on the run, then once again showing themselves in a town that never seems to change. The faces, yes they change, but never the ways of the city? No, never. It will put you on the top for a little while and then it will kick you off of your pedestal and make you wish you never came. I met with an old contact several nights ago, Goldgel Ummurrah a rather interesting character from Harad. He's aged nicely, like me. But certainly not my type.

Ow, ow, ow! Would be nice sooner or later that I would stop burning either my food or my hands for once so that I could write more frequent without needing to write as much as I did last time. Might as well do  it either way since apparently, I've no choice.

Dear Dirhael Breckenridge,

To quote our maternal grandfather, "What in tarnation were you thinking?" In fact, dearest brother, were you thinking at all?

Dear Diary,

Well, some news has definitely come up. My father is still alive, and he has been sending men after me to take me back to Dale. Thankfully, Papa--er, that is what I refer to Awarth now, as he is much like a second, and an actual, father to me--is there to help me through things. And so far everything is going well.

Dear Diary,

I'm decided.

A dressmaker is much better for me. Dresses, robes, cloaks, tunics... I'm much better with those. I've compared the trousers that I have made with trousers that others have made, and I've a long way to go in order to call myself sufficiently skilled in making trousers...

It is better that I only be a dressmaker... for now, at least. I will have to improve my skill making trousers, but now is not the time for it.

Dear Diary,

I've met another few people today! Today, I met Dryn, his father--mister Goldgel--as well as a few of his siblings and one of his uncles, mister Maldam.

Drank myself to sleep last night, I know I can’t do that with Eom around but I couldn’t resist. I just needed to relax, I’m scared but I feel alone. Rick tells me he’s not keen on the idea of Oak coming back. I don’t know what to do.

(An unsent letter, written in charcoal pencil on parchment)

To Violet,

Hello, my sweet little girl. It's your mother. Much time has passed since I last wrote to you, as I was still carrying you, excited to meet you for the very first time. Now, you are here in the world, and I can't be more excited to see you happy and healthy...