At the edge of the forest,...where the stream met the grand coast, Aleena lingered passed it wondering where it went? Hesistating at the bridge, she leaned up hearing the distant calling of morning birds. After alot of hard work and stress between many people, it was time to take a bit of recess for herself....
The town was at a tension that was unbearable with accusations, suspicions, negative commentary, politics, arguments.......
Aleena, who dedicates to the Light of Love and Joy, a priestess of Inil, was feeling herself....dying. Like her soul being dragged across the rough roads, and the negative vibe was incredibly contagious...
So stressed she was. Toxic was the conversations lately.
The karma and emotions in the air was a slow death to her soul and she couldn't deal with it anymore. How can she continue to nurture warmth, friendship and compassion in this community with all this?
The answer was, she couldn't.
The small half white elf was only mortal, even the healer needed healing.
She desperately needed recess.
As Cliff once said, she was no good to anyone if she could not take care of herself. And with a upcoming ritual dedicated to the Light with the nine other mages? She must.
Her part was done for now until new information comes in, the nine were choosen and each were given their instruction to prepare. Now it was time for her to prepare as well, to meditate, to find her inner light.
At early rise of morning,.. departing with a quick farewell from Theron, she head off in the safe low sunrise to follow the stream beyond New Haven and see where it goes?
Sheltered by the great trees, she carried a basket and a scarf hooded about her hair. Her staff by her side who carried a lantern on it's curled up white nose. Crossing the stream a few times, leaping over logs without ripping her skirt, and feeling the cool of the deeper forest, she felt slowly and ironically safer?
Moss and soft cushioned grass awaited under her boots had no prints and the branches and vines fallen over told her this was a path not followed by many and most likely safe. She smiled and tucked away her hood, pushing forward...
As she traveled she was welcomed by the quiet lovely escape; opened meadows where itchy pine sands then became mossy fern, the sound of water collecting and turning at each bank was a beautiful lullaby, the leaves falling under the columnaids of sunlight made them sparkle as they fall, and the occasional butterfly crossed her path who had their own whimsical secret purpose among the high grass.
With great wonder, she smiled, halting for a moment to taking it all in.
Her lungs expanded as she breath in, her heart can flutter, ....
It was true, as the White Elves once said, the forest has a way of purifying ourselves.
To enter it's domain is to let it wash it's energy over us night and day,.
Like the old poem...
"...laiss ferin thuar I 'wilith lim echui aur....
I mrethil peliar duiw laiss
Af filig linnol der' ennasha....
Vi Inil a Kierna, dôr lenthir yua
Gorain nesta eldo
velathril nín.... "
The leaves of the hallow breathe
The sparkling air of day's awakening.
The birches spread the buds of leaves
For the small singing voices to linger there.
In Inil and Kierna, land of the tuneful world
Wandering-together these elders,
heals my beloved. "
Clasping her hands to take it in a prayer, praising this pure place.After awakening to the sounds of a chirping robin, she gathered her staff and continued, knowing a particular path in mind. It was somewhere, in the many hours of traveling, that she spotted a flat round plate on the ground. To any, it seemed to be a very large stump. But to her, it was a door. Someone lives here. A dear friend close to her.
However, once she reached the flat door, her face fell, and she hung her shoulders in forelorn.
The bundle of wax paper she left here weeks ago, is at the exact spot she left it. Now soggy, wet, and apparently half devoured by woodland creatures. Only scattered remains of the paper and ribbon is left, crawling with ants of what was once a large sandwich ....