- A Record of a Bard's Dream - Margaid's journal -
By Margaid
--/--
Today is a day for impossible feats. With one bloody strike, the war with no end has finally ended. Lugh's gleaming sword pierced the heart of that great and terrible Fomorian, he of the Evil Eye. At that moment, I too felt as if something within me had been severed-- perhaps it was the great well of pressure and fear that had kept me pressing ever onward. I dropped to the ground where I stood. My calloused fingers unclenched at least from the strings of my instrument.
Cairbre, my friend... Dare I say it? The tiny spark of hope you ignited within us has caught at last, and now burns strong, a great flame of peace. In its light, we celebrate our victory, sowing the seeds of a green future in this bloodstained prairie.
--/--
When last I wrote, I wrote of peace, but once that first moment of triumph faded, peace has been a stranger to me, While the rest celebrate the end of the war, I fear it lives on in my heart.
I look out across this brown and dreary land, and all I can see are the dreams that have shattered upon it, like the shields of fallen soldiers. How many hopes have faded and vanished here? How many futures have been cut short?
How many lives have I taken with my own hands?
I have spoken of this some to dear friends in my company, and even to Lugh himself, but I fear they do not understand. They tell me to focus on the precious things we protected with our victory, but...
Whatever I do, I can't forget that sight. That small Fomor, who couldn't have been more than a child... The look on their face as their life faded before my eyes.
--/--
My mind is made up. I do feel regret for the work still to do to rebuild the Kingdom of Aliech, and for all the words Lugh put to the task of dissuading me, but... In my heart, I know I must leave.
My dear friends, my brave companions-- I know they are more than equal to the task of tending the seeds of a better future that have begun to grow here. But that future is not for me. I will once again become a wanderer, until the day that I find the place that can become a beacon of love and hope to Erinn.
Until that day, I swear: I will let no more hopes crumble into dust. I will let no more dreams shatter into despair. I will spread the all-encompassing warmth of Lyymilark's love to as many people as I can.
Written out like that, it sounds like a great hero's mission, but I do not think that it is. I think of it simply as the least I can do.
--/--
How lucky I am, to find myself with companionship on a voyage I thought I would take alone! I set sail today with a handful of like-minded souls. Our boat is small, but the hull is solid, and our course is clear.
I've been working on a song. These days all the tunes in my head are mournful, and this one is no exception. It's a song of pain, of the inhumanity of war. My companions listened to me sing it as we voyaged. We spoke for a long time of all we had seen. Before we parted for the night, we all swore our commitment to the work of creating a place of love and peace. My heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.
--/--
We've been at sail for a week now. I woke this morning to shouts of land. It's an island, not marked on our maps, unknown and uninhabited.
We disembarked at once and began exploring. It seems a paradise. Even now, as I write, a warm breeze ruffles my hair and sets bright pink flowers aflutter. If the land I left was one of cautious hope and the first signs of spring in a land of winter, this land has the full riot of summer.
We have decided to stay here and make this land a land of love. We will build houses, cultivate saplings, and live together in peace. Now, on the day of its founding, let me set down my hopes for this place.
May our efforts here bear fruit and our new community flourish. May this place become a land free of hate, where are all welcomed and all are loved.
And, most of all, may the horrors of war never mar this paradise.
I hope this island is peaceful and prosperous even long after I have breathed my last, and that when I am gone, my dreams will have rooted deeply in the soil here, to stand tall and stalwart against any winds of change.
- Margaid, Bard of Dreams
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