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Aedon Durreah
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    A soft green tablet with a Yew tree etched on it and gold trim*

    A daily journal and record kept by Aedon Durreah


Last edited by Aedon Durreah on 2021/02/27 9:32 pm; edited 3 times in total


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Aedon Durreah
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I have always kept a journal. For all the years I can recall I have Kept an account of my many travels and adventures. SInce coming to these lands, I have been remiss in my writings, and I fear that much of the things I would have take note of are lost to me now. But as I often say, it is never too late to start a new tradition, or to bring back those things that give a body pleasure. And I have always found great solace in the written word.

My time sitting before the fire, as the evening shadows gather round are like air to me. To be in my own home, a cup of warm coffee close at hand-a pen and journal on my lap. These are the things that bring you life, and refresh a weary heart and soul for the next days toils.
So I think it is a good time to tell my tales to the linen sheets bound between the leather covers of this journal of mine. My constant companion, and at times, my only friend. I have neglected you for far too long now.

Now, Where shall I begin?


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This was a rather new thing to me. I had started working with bands and musicians around the Bree area. This had proving to be both a rewarding and frustrating task. Art, after all is subjective, and many of the musical artists are not only proud of their work, but at times haughty. Many times, I sat in the back of the audience and watched as they struggled to take and keep control of the stage, assuring that only their works would be heard. This was rapidly becoming a flash-point, and arguments and hurt feelings often ruled the night.
How hard could it be to take some measure of control over such a situation? Have I not in my long years commanded many men and led them into battle? With command, the first thing you must do is get others to listen. So, once one band had finished a song, I took the stage, thanked them and acted as though I was the one in charge of the show.

Fake till you make it so to speak.

To my delight, the bands listened and even seemed to crave some sense of order. Each coming show brought more order and a sense of ease to the bands participating. Everyone was being heard in an equal way. No one had to fight to be heard and could relax, and put their full concentration into their performance.
It has been several years now since I began “herding cats.” And I still find a great deal of pleasure in doing so. Some bands have moved on, and many more have come into the show. But always now, the older bands take them under their wings, and see to it they understand the order to the shows. Many times, I have arrived at a venue to discover that they have already arranged their bands around an area they see as center stage, and are already playing round robin style for those who show up early for the show, or sometimes, just for each other. As more bands show up for the night, they make room in the circle, and play on sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, long after the official show has ended.

Music speaks to the heart, soothes the soul, and brings true meaning into our lives. The art of a musician, songwriter, and story teller should be recognized and encouraged. I enjoy being a small part of this, and believe that what we do at these shows, the night of song and dance serves the greater good of the people of Middle Earth in that it allows those weary from the battle a time to pause, reflect and remember that there is still good in this world.

And that is what we are fighting to protect.


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Aedon Durreah
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The evening was still and dark. Within the small Breeland House the light cast by the lanterns and fireplace did little to brighten the room, or lighten the shadow that crept across his heart. Preparing a cup of coffee, Aedon went and sat in the chair closest to the hearth. Sipping at the strong brew, he stared into the fire hoping to find a bit of warmth. Something, anything really to sway his thoughts from the path they now traveled down.
The house was silent. So quiet in fact that the crackling of the fire within the hearth echoed loudly in the room, causing his heart to race and beat in time. He was alone this night. Greyylene was off on her ship again in search of rum, treasure and adventure. He did not worry when she was away. Her crew, though a bit off beat were good company. Each of them ready to draw swords and bows in defense of one another. And though their marauding was not the fodder of many songs, they were happy with the life they chose.
Choosing one’s destiny is a good thing. This was something Aedon understood all too well. It was a thing that had followed him through the long years of his life, from world to world in search of…
In search of what?
The answer to this question had always eluded him.
Standing, he took his cup and walked outside, sitting down on the steps. Like the house, Wolfhaven was quiet. He strained his ears longing to hear the call of the wolves in the Glade or the Hoppers in the tall grass. But only a deathly silence greeted him, causing him to shudder slightly. Gazing up into the sky, he asked aloud;
So, is this it? Have I crossed so many miles to sit in silence?
Taking a deep drink from his cup, he allowed his thoughts to stray across time and space, reaching ever out in the hopes of touching some sense of home. Home, the one thing in his life he forever seemed incapable of finding. He longed for the comfort of his own place. To lay his head down on his own bed, or sit for hours before his fire. A fire that knew him and all his hopes and dreams. He imagined what it would feel like to once again walk the familiar paths through Aegis, or sit for hours listening to the chatter of friends. He was so lost in thought he at first did not hear the sound of large wings beating before him. Looking up, he smiled as the two large birds approached the ground.
“Well, fancy seeing you two here.” He said to them.
As they touched the ground, they shifted forms and stood before him. The woman was dressed in white, long white hair cascading down her back. The man, white haired and bearded clad in robes of blue. They moved over to where Aedon sat. The woman was the first to speak.
“My son, what stirs thee to call this eve.”
“Forgive me mother, I did not realize I had called out.”
Going over, she sat down on the steps next to him and turning his face to hers saying;
‘Not so much in words Aedon as in a cry from thy soul. What troubles thee?”
At first, he did not reply, turning instead to glance down the street towards the bridge that led to the town square. After a bit he turned back to her and spoke softly.
“Home sick I suppose.” He said shrugging lightly.
“Mother, why do I remain here? What I set out to do I have done. It makes sense that I return now to Aegis.”
“And what of Greyylene?”
“Izz…Greyylene is happy now. She has good friends and enjoys her life as a lady pirate.” At this he chuckled a bit saying: “Yo Ho Ho.” Then looking his mother in the eyes saying.
“What she will be now is what she was supposed to be. A life returned to her to choose and live as she will. She will be pirate or diplomat, or whatever bring her peace. That is how it should have been had the turning not stolen life from her.”
“And you Aedon?”
“I will be what I am intended to be as well. It is more a matter of where and when I will be it.”
Leaning over, she kissed him softly on the cheek then rose and pointed into the East. The clouds parted and there adrift in the sky was the Great Ship. Standing, Aedon walked out to the edge of his fence. His eyes ever on the craft, a yearning building in is heart. Walking over, she lay a hand on his shoulder and whispered to him.
“We are there, should you decide my son.”
With that, she went and stood next to the man, and shifted forms. After bowing briefly to Aedon, the man also shifted, and flew off into the sky. The clouds drifted, concealing again from view the Celtic Tide. Lifting his hand, Aedon waved farewell to them, and walked back inside.
We are all meant to be someone in life. Dreams and goals are set before us as bait, ever urging us on. And when a dream turns to nightmare, even the slightest breeze can breathe ill or well for any of us. And it is the duty of those who can to strive to set these dreams right, and guide others down the path they were intended to walk. And if my path has led me down dark alleys or barren lands, then I will and must seek for myself all that I lost.


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Greyylene
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Captain’s Log:

Standing on deck watching the Cape float by, I am struck by the beauty. This is my favorite time of year, by far. Sea birds fight the salty breezes and the tide squawking at each other for food rites, and the schooling fish play tag in the ship’s wake. So many brilliant colors dot the landscape and the air is crisp with the promise of Spring. How can this not be a premier vision?

Since the opening of The Knight’s Rest, rum and ale has been in high demand. It is no wonder considering the crew in charge of drinks and food. I did warn Aedon that the employ of pirates in a pub was perhaps the maddest scheme he had devised since choosing me for a wife. Silly man! But he insists on serving the very best. To that end, we are tasked with keeping the stores well and fully stocked.

Thus I find myself at the wheel of The Saucy Vixen once more. This ship is aptly named, the crew is entirely female. I believe I heard this corsair called a “grocery getter” at one point. Where we do, indeed, return with food and grains the primary “getting” is for that golden nectar of the gods, Rum! A precious few now know where the supply for the pub is, My personal stock is still firmly secure.

On the note of my personal stock, it seems that the ones most interested in identifying and absconding with MY rum are yet unable to. My thought is they are far too distracted by the … Other rum to remember anything else, including their names. Darling Bam Bam has been instrumental in assisting with this continued game. She is rather well versed in the fine art of Rum!

Speaking of Bam Bam, she is not on this particular voyage. The reason, you ask? She is still basking in the glow of wedded bliss, under the guise of preparing room in the various establishments that serve our hard liquors for new stock. I am certain all will be in order upon our return, but just in case, we will take our time returning. Would be awful to be the interruption to such... activities as entertaining her new husband. I suspect as much shenanigans with them as we are sure to encounter.

Despite the late start, things are rather smooth, so far. Wingnut and Rum Face Miaga had been out carousing all night and woke much later than desired. Scally rat and I stood at the gangplank to welcome the wayward crew. When they did finally grace us with their presence, the sight was most amusing. Their hair was a shambles, uniforms wrinkled and disheveled, wreaking of a hard night in the tavern and I do believe skinned toes were shared by both. The vision sent Scally rat into a fit of hilarious laughter, which ended my stoic charade as well.

“May we get underway now?” I asked them.

Their sheepish sleepy nods were met with more laughter and a rather undignified snort from Scally rat. If this is any indication on how the trip will be, perhaps I should be a little nervous.
Greyylene
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Ships Log:

Well, I must say, it has been an adventurous few days. It seems that the lovely weather that kissed our beginning was merely a tease. I suppose being aboard a Vixen one should not be so surprised, however, I am not entirely convinced this is random. One storm I find natural, two irritating but to have five sail ripping storms within so many days is downright sinister. Not one for believing in coincidence, the crew and I went on the hunt for what manner of trickery was afoot.

Our long soggy day gave way to evening, which sloshed through to midnight when finally a break in the clouds gave some relief. The sky parted revealing a bright silver moon. It was a stunning sight and a welcome respite to the days of fighting with lines and rigging. The harrowing days, which almost lost a crew member, showed promise of an end.

Wingnut perched in the crow’s nest nursing a very swollen ankle while the rest of us straightened the deck waiting for the next onslaught. Had it not been for the rope that tangled around her ankle she surely would have been swept away. Dangling upside down, rather undignified even for a pirate, we were able to keep her somewhat safe on deck between breaking waves. For a plump li’l hobbit she sure did flail wildly about. Hobbit feet actually saved her from being flung overboard into angry waves.

A quiet gasp that echoed between the low hung clouds and tide caught our attention. Wingnut was standing a gasp pointing at the deck. Scribbles scrawled across every inch of the deck were runes now glowing in the moonlight.

“What in the bloody hell is That!” my yell was almost painful in the quiet.

“I donno, Capt’n, but...”

Before Scally rat could finish her thought the booming laugh of Figol echoed, followed by the airy chuckle of Nemira. As their feet touched the deck each of the mages in turn looked around at the artwork. I was almost certain it was Figol’s doing, but he merely turned and lit off with a whoosh of wings. Nemira, however, walked over, in what can only be described as floating. She surveyed the glowing scribbles and chuckled to herself.

“Well, I must say, this was a rather grand adventure.”

“You know who did this, don’t you?” my question was met with a teasing smile.

“Of course, dear. But I honestly was not sure the incantation used would work. It was well and truly gibberish, and the child who wrote such was quite intoxicated.”

“So, Who did this? And What did they have against me?”

“You? Oh no, it wasn’t against you. This was done by your friend Freemark, used as a tracking spell so she could find your secret rum stash.”

With a loud groan all I could do was shake my head.

“How do I make the storms stop?”

Without another word the elegant lady turned and wrote in the air just above the deck another set of bound runes. They could not be seen but the effect was immediate. Clouds shifted and the moon shone bright. Twinkling stars giggled in the night sky showing a path to a nearby port they could stop for repairs.

“Remind me to keelhaul Freeky when we get home,” I said to Scally rat.
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Ship’s Log:

It is with great pleasure I am able to pen these words as record of our most recent … adventure. The fact we are quite alright is a testament to some Divine intervention. For all reason, we should be at the bottom of the sea.

There are times I wonder the wisdom in employing Hobbits for crew. But then I remember where they may lack in height, they more than make up for in spirit and heart. That truly is enough for me. However, there are times where being a little taller would be an advantage.

There is no question that any one of them could, and has, proven their mettle. They are tough as iron and strong as an ox. Do not cross a sea faring Hobbit, no matter how strong the temptation may be. They will make you bleed every time.

By nature, Hobbits are keen to quality merchandise, especially where food and drink come to play. Our first port of call proved how valuable their presence is in procuring such items. One of our regular vendors was called away and, in their place, sent some other scab who tried to cheat the sweet looking Rum Face Miaga with inferior spirits. Foolish mortal! Suffice it to say, we not only came out with the Very Good stuff, but it was at the price of the weak-ass nonsense he tried to unload in the first place. Cheat a Hobbit lass, it makes me laugh at the very thought.

The stop in town was far more time consuming than I hoped for. We were racing the tides just to get out of port. Alas, we did finally make it out to open ocean. Most of our belongings were still with us, in truth, I am not sure who made out better. Did we gain more for our pockets, or did the town ruffians make more for theirs? Perhaps it was merely a fair exchange to both. Either way, pocket treasures were acquired by all.

All that to say, after dinner the deck was littered with dishes and sleeping Hobbits. They had a good thought, sleeping under the stars. It was a beautiful night. Between the gentle lap of the tide against the hull and rather unlady-like snoring the peace and calm that settled over us reminded me why I love the sea.

Standing at the bow watching the night hours pass my thoughts strayed towards home. So many years spent alone let me be comfortable in solitude. But sometimes it is nice to know Aedon and I share the same sky.

I must have been well and truly lost in thought. The next thing recalled was being startled back by frantic yelling.

“Capt’n, we takin’ on water!”

It was not known which hobbit made the discovery, but it was abundantly clear the problem was significant. Rum Face and Wingnut came from the hold soaked from their neck down. For one so short, that was a LOT of water.

“Taking on water?! You think that may have been noticed BEFORE we were out in the middle of wide-open ocean??”

The litany of cussing that spilled over Greyy’s lips made the crew cower. Barely touching the steps, the Captain splashed through the cold water to see exactly where the problem was. Indeed, there was a rather large crack in the timbers just below the water line. While Scally and Greyy worked inside to plug the leak, Wingnut and Rum Face were sent over the edge to tar the hull.

Thankfully the waves were quiet, and the job went rather smooth and quickly. It was, however, abundantly clear they Had to find some kind of harbor to make more permanent repairs and to salvage whatever cargo was left undamaged. And That was when the real fun began!
Aedon Durreah
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It is not at all unusual for Greyy to be away for many days. Her Rum business was thriving and demand for the drink had risen. I am glad that at the very least she has stopped mixing it in the bathtub. I still have a rather sizable rash in a sensitive spot from lowering myself into what I assumed was a tub of warm water she had drawn for me. I have learned to remind myself to sniff or taste first, then bathe.

At least I do not have the time to feel her absence much. During the day I am working on matters for the kinship and night finds me attending two to three concerts, or planning the next event I want to hold. I suppose that music is my Rum, and much like Greyy with her brew, I tend to fully immerse myself in the work. If idle hands are the devil’s workshop then Greyy and I must be approaching sainthood by now.

It is when the music stops and the crowd has returned to their homes that the loneliness hits me. To quiet the feelings once I am home, I make a cup of coffee, go outside and sit under the stars. It is then that I can feel her presence all around me. It is hard to feel alone with myriad sparkling eyes watching over me. And there I sit past the draining of my cup, listening to her voice upon the breeze.

I am glad that she has a fine crew serving with her, and am sure that each of these ladies would lay down their lives to protect the other. Though I must chuckle a bit thinking of the marauding they think they are doing. And I am sure that Miaga drinks far more rum than they off load at any port of call. But Cary and Scally are stalwart companions and most likely help keep the others on a straighter path.

As the night moves on, and the first thin rays of sunlight reach their tendrils across the sky I know that she is one day closer to being home again. And she will be glad to be here for sure. But the sea will call to her time and again, and she will, as a creature of habit return to the waters. This is the price that must be paid for what I have done. And a price I would pay again and again just to see her happy.

Sometimes the waves talk, and I listen
And speak to me of days long past
That will not come again
And whisper of adventure
Wild and Free
And time and again
When my load seems heavy
And I feel most alone
I set aside my burdens
And heed the call of the sea


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Setting aside his cup, Aedon picks up his gear and starts to head to the door. Setting everything down, he walks back to the cup, and takes it to the sink for a quick wash and dry. He examines the cup, and then sets it on the shelf above the hearth. Returning to where he left his gear, he takes it up again, and heads towards the door.

His eyes are greeted by a bright warm sun, and the smell of foxgloves growing around the small garden statue. Breathing in deeply, he savors the smell for a moment, then whistling for Leannan, mounts his steed and heads towards the exit of Wolfhaven.

Patting the horse’s neck, he says looking down the road.

“Well, my friend, this is a great day for traveling.”

At first, he moves slowing down the road, watching the lands on either side drift slowly past. To his left he can see the near reaches of the Marshlands. Looking forward he can see the shadowy silhouette of Weathertop looming in the distance. He continued on at this pace fort some time, enjoying the journey, but looking forward to arriving at his destiny. After a time, he paused, and looked down to his horse.

“Well, I suppose we should get on our way for real eh lad?”

Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out an old tome. The cover, leather bound, and tightly stitched was a bit worn with age. But the runes etched into it stood out as clearly as the day they were placed there. Opening the book, he looked down the page until he spotted the etching he sought. Placing his hand over the rune, and whispering a few words of power he was whisked from where he had stood before, and whisked to the shoreline of Belfalas. Dismounting Leannan, he sent the horse up the short hill to the house. He watched the horse stop in the gras above to munch at the fresh clover which grew along the wall. Then turned his face towards the Bay.

Following the stone laid path that ran from the roadway, Aedon made his way towards waters edge. The smell of the salt water was exhilarating to him. He breathed it all in and listened contentedly to the sounds of the sea birds overhead.

It was always good to return to Belfalas. It was renewing in many ways, and stirred the imagination with thought of long sea voyages to different lands. Of the stormy waters that lay off the coast of Yew, and long days spent sailing to the marketplace which floated in the waters far off the coast of Magincia. But today his thoughts did not look towards those far-off lands and other lives.

Today, she was coming home.


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Ship’s Log:

I must say this at the start, this island we found aint quite right. There is something amiss and it has yet to show forth. It feels as though we are being watched, but I scour the trees and can find nothing. Even looking to the earth for signs and tracks reveal nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly there is something we are missing. It is my hope to be finished before we discover the source.

Repairs were moving along at a rather good clip, until the midday meal. The sun was high and far warmer than anticipated. It was helpful to have the heat for airing out the dry goods on deck. It was when we tried to fully repair the offending board in the hull that we noticed Wingnut was missing.
~*~

“Well that can't be good,” Scally rat muttered.

“Firm grasp on the obvious, ya got there!”

“No need to be snippy, you two. Its not as if we have a very large crew. She can’t have gone too far, certainly one of us would have noticed,” Greyy snapped.

Breaking up a li’l Hobbit scuffle would have been amusing, had Greyy been in the mood to allow it. The overwhelming feeling of doom was starting to take a toll. Now was a missing crew member and that feeling went from dread to panic.

“Ok, ladies, now we need to find the Wingnut! Look for tracks, how hard are Hobbit feet to follow?”

The Captain’s question was met with a degree of concern, almost as if that had put a hex on the mission. Then again maybe there had, no Hobbit footprints where there should have been. The crew found themselves standing at the edge of a fairly dense forest hoping against all hope she would just scamper out like it was a jolly joke. No such luck.

“Well damn,” Greyy whispered to the trees.

“Aw maaaan! Capt’n do we gotta go in there?” Scally rat’s question spoke what all were thinking.

“Ya knows I think there was a pile a’ rocks o’r there what needs a bit more investergating,” Rum face hollered over her shoulder as she darted across the sandy beach.

The others had little choice but to follow. Sure enough, Hobbit tracks, though there were some question on the legitimacy of them belonging to Wingnut. The look of skepticism on Greyy’s face made Miaga pout a little bit.

“Well they aint mine!”

Following the tracks lead the party straight to a mound of boulders. Pausing for a moment Greyy began to chuckle. Apparently Wingnut had been in hot pursuit of some small critter. Around and round the outcrop of stones the tracks circled, a good half dozen times around before abruptly stopping. No evidence of victory, merely stopped.

“Ooooh! Here!” Scally rat exclaimed just before vanishing.

An opening at the base of the stones had been well hidden, until right on top of it. Each, in turn, stepped into the crack. Greyy, being rather tall in comparison, gave herself a rather nasty gash from hitting her head on the low ceiling. Stifling a yelp she continued on a narrow path with the patter of Hobbits close behind.

Winding around the narrow tunnel the small crew of Vixens became keenly aware of just how small the space was. There was no way to escape, should the need arise. Weapons at the ready they continued in the semi darkness until the path suddenly took a twist and a climb. Peeking up through another mound of boulders the sunlight was blinding.

Pausing to let their eyes adjust, the view that greeted them was both impressive and horrifying. In the center of a large clearing was a massive bonfire. The din of low growling chants that surrounded the fire took a moment to identify. Dwarves! A hundred strong! None of which had much in the way of clothing to cover, well, anything! And who would be in the middle of all the fleshy dwarven mass? Wingnut!

Greyy released a low groan and a heavy sigh. They may as well turn back, there would be no rescue of their crewmate from this. All those dwarves to add to her closet collection. All hope was lost to ever retrieve her!

They were preparing to turn back when Wingnut exclaimed her greeting.

“CAAAAAAPTAAAAAAIN!!! I’m Heeeeeeeere!!”

With the frenzy of bodies halted Greyy and the others had no choice but to emerge from their hiding place. The quiet was short lived, for the party had to continue. Well into the night there was drinking, feasting and dancing. Then things began to get a bit awkward and slightly dangerous. The dancing became feverish and then items turned into projectiles. Stones, sticks, bottles and odd pieces of clothing – no one really knew where the clothing came from – were thrown about like confetti. All know, that which goes up, must eventually come down. To that end, raining debris was causing quite a few head injuries.

“These will be hard to explain, Capt’n,” Scally rat’s statement came with more than a few lumps and a bruise forming on her forehead.

“Aye that! Perhaps we should find some shelter.”

No sooner had Greyy started to move out of the way of falling kindling was she smacked square between the eyes with a large stick. Dazed and with eyes watering she tried to move out of the way. Her nose was broken and eyes stung. Patience was wearing thin when she finally found Wingnut.

Standing in front of her Captain, Wingnut had the good sense not to laugh at the disheveled mess of the crewmates. Horrified at the bloody form of Greyy, they were ushered to a massive tree that stood in the middle of the clearing. The wide trunk and lofty branches would have been an impressive sight, had Greyy actually been able to see it.

The crew was lead through a short door, careful not to add any more injuries to Greyy. Hardly caring where they were going, it was a merciful respite to the clamor of the party outside. The next thing Greyy remembered was waking to a chill across her feet.

“Wingnut, you are going to walk the plank when we get out of this!” The slurred speech of Greyy was a welcome sign of life.

“Capt’n, we’s in trouble!”

“Of course we are,” Greyy tried to sit up but the room spun unmercifully.

“No, I means we’s in really big trouble. Them dorf lads aint want’n to let us go! We's too purty, they says.”

“Oh Eru help us! What did you do?”

“I dinna do nuttn, Capt’n! Promise.”

“We need out of here. What do we have to barter?”

“They donwan’ nuttin! Just us.”

“Well, Capt’n, we do have the shipment of rum,” Scally rat chimmed in.

“NOOOOOO!! Not the Ruuuuum!” Miaga wailed.

“Fine, make it happen. Anything to get out of this... wait are we in a tree?” Greyy tried to stand again.

Crumpling back to the pallet, the rest of the crew was left to carry out Greyy’s orders, reluctantly as it was told later.

It is amazing how quickly the Vixen glides over the water when the hold is empty. Perhaps there was some assistance from Nemira, but one would never really know for sure. By the time the port of Belfalas came into view most of the bruises were well and fully on display, although Greyy’s nose was no longer swollen. Stepping out onto the deck, wide brimmed hat firmly in place, Capt’n Greyy could only hope Aedon wouldn’t notice exactly how disheveled they were.

No such luck! He took one look at her, after the shock wore off, his hearty booming laugh echoed across the water.

“Oh this looks like a grand tale indeed.”
Aedon Durreah
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I have to admit, it took me some time to calm down again after I saw the condition or the crew of the Saucy Vixen. The ship herself was fine. A little more weather worn that it has appeared after some voyages, but all in all, in good shape. The ladies of the crew however were a sight.

After my initial shock at seeing Greyy scratched up, and sporting two black eyes wore off, I could not help but laugh. What had once been Carysta’s proper uniform now hung in tatters from her shoulders. Her feet looked as though she had taken a stroll in a briar patch, and her hair was pulled to one side, and sticking out stiffly from her head. Scally looked as though she was wearing her own pants, but had perhaps gotten into Greyy’s closet as the top was either too large for her, or had been stretched to such grand proportions by many hands grabbing a part of it, and running in opposite directions.

It was clear that Greyylene was hoping not to see me standing there, and I am sure that my laughter only served to make her even angrier at me, then she was at whatever calamity had befallen her. Standing up straight, she attempted to smooth out her garment and flash me a crooked smile.

I swear, I did try to control my mirth. I stifled another round of laughter that was welling up from deep within, and smiled as bast I could, welcoming her home.

“Oh, this looks like a Grand Tale.” Was about all I could manage to say before her smile melted into a weary scowl.

I could not help feeling sorry for them all, even though Carysta seemed unphased by it all and in fact was singing the words to a song, or chant I have never heard before.

“Come along all of you. You can clean up and rest here tonight. Tomorrow we will return to Bree.”

They followed along behind me up the short hill and into the house overlooking the Bay. Standing just inside I let Greyy know that I would go to the Ship and be sure she was secured for the night. I walked outside and looked towards the dock where the Vixen bobbed in the water. And then, just as I closed the door, I thought I heard Cary say;

“Whew, I’m gonna need more closets.”


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Aedon Durreah
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She is up to something. I am not sure just what, but when she comes home smelling of cheap rum and humming old tunes, then I know, she is up to something.

Since returning from her last voyage, there has been a marked change in her actions. She seems a bit more wary of the ladies in her crew, and a bit more closed around me. Perhaps laughing at her appearance that night was the wrong thing to do, but oh the sight of them all still makes me snicker. Mostly to myself, and I have learned not to do so in her presence. It is not that I fear the lass, I just do not wish to cause more discomfort than she and that lot have already brought on themselves.

But tonight, I know for sure, shenanigans are afoot. And though it goes against all I was raised to do; I find myself wanting in on this plot. Perhaps it is the month we are in, and the presence of leprechauns dashing about here and there. The thought of some grand scheme sets my imagination racing, and gives way to wild dreams.

But, do I tell her that I would like to help with whatever she is up to, or do I just follow at a safe distance, and perhaps add a bit of magic into the mix?


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They set out again, but this time sailed east out of Belfalas Bay. I watched, from a place of hiding as the crew, and a few added helpers loaded the hold of the Saucy Vixen with the Rum and whisky that had been maturing in the basement of the Hall in Rohan. Greyy was a bit of this batch. Perhaps too proud, something that caused her to get careless and share some with the crew. I fear that this will be her undoing.

I will follow for a bit, and keep watch on them from aboard the Celtic Tide. I am lucky in that she does not as of yet seem to be able to spot the craft moving in the clouds drifting high above her small ship. Add to that the fact that I have enlisted Nemira in my little ploy.

It is not that I do not trust Greyy so much as I fear that crew of hers will lead her into danger unwittingly. They are without a doubt, some of the worst pirates I have ever seen. But on, sailing with them makes Greyy smile. More so than I have seen her do in many long years. But those pirate lasses are brash and careless at times. And I swear Wingnut has some sort of dwarven death wish.

It is good to be aboard the Tide again. To stand at the bow of the ship and feel the wind in my face takes me back to simpler times, and other lands. It would be far too easy to tell Nemira to keep moving into the East and leave the lands of Middle Earth behind. To return to my tavern in the Glade and live out my years in peace amongst what is left of my friends. But duty keeps me bound to this place for now, and time will tell where my last years will be spent.

For now, I will follow Greyylene and her crew, and see to their safety. And perhaps, time permitting, give them a bit of a shock of my own making.


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