Journal: Aemundis Rel'thor 1

This is a transcribed copy of the Journal of Aemundis Rel'thor, King of Caranduin from ?-18 B.C. Many of its original pages have been lost to time. The following is all that remains of the ancient record.

23 B.C. A son! I have a son! And my dear wife has survived the birthing. This is most joyous news, though it is unfortunate that I was not present. Two weeks have I been here, more like a prisoner than a royal guest. King Balwen is a greedy man and S'handor reflects it. I have never seen such opulence in a single room, yet the streets require re-paving and the roofs re-thatching. Nevertheless, the people say the gates and walls of S'handor would block a storm if needed. We have been tirelessly negotiating the terms of trade for a week and a half now, though little progress has been made. It is clear that King Balwen wishes for his interests to dominate these dealings. The trade roads were established by my father and Raymund Tha'los' father. By the Gods we will not bow to Balwen. Not now, not ever. Bah! I should not dwell on such thoughts this day. The Gods have blessed the season's harvest, and the people will not be hungry in the coming winter. My son is healthy and my wife is well. Indeed, I have much to be thankful for.

23 B.C. Third week here and my bones begin to ache. It is cold and dry in these parts, and I long for the warmth of Caranduin. The negotiations remain stagnant. In the past three days, I have met only with Mordeth. King Balwen must find himself above these proceedings! I do not like this Mordeth. There is something about his cold eyes, empty yet calculating. I suppose Balwen would have much use for such a cunning man. It is strange, from Thalos to Caranduinany passerby will speak of peace, but here I feel as though the entire city is on the fringes of war. Perhaps there is some merit to this vigilance. Perhaps I have fallen into complacency. Bah! Such babble of paranoia. There has not been war in these lands since the betrayal of the wild folk eighty years ago, and even that buckled before it could amount to anything. I think it is the air here that forces my thoughts so. I wish to see my son and wife.

23 B.C. I forgot how expansive Danatha'nir is, and how many tribes of wild folk still call it home. Such uncivilized people these tribesmen are. Today is the festival of their Great Mother. Many have arrived from the farthest reaches of the forest to this village. Even as I write I hear their chants and smell their burning herbs, most intoxicating and distracting to say the least. If not for the need of provisions, I would have avoided this place altogether. There is no room for pagans in a world wrought by the Gods of Light and Justice. I never did understand why my father tolerated them so. It is important to respect nature, he used to say. If it were up to me, the lot of them would be judged before the Gods of Light and Justice. In any case, I will be glad to be gone from here. Caranduin is but three days away.

23 B.C. Caranduin is a wonder this time of year. Winter does no more than frost the streets and powder the hills. I remember when Raymund Tha'los and I were merely boys with wooden swords, fighting imaginary Ice Queens on yonder mounds. I do long for his friendship at times. It has been five years now since we last saw one another. I will have to take little Aeron and visit my old friend in Thalos. Perhaps in the fishing season, yes.

22 B.C. What a peculiar day indeed. I do not often wander the market but it seemed a pleasant day to do so. I happened upon that man that I seem to hear of more often lately. Damnil yes that is what the people called him, Damnil the self-proclaimed seer. Such strange things he spoke of. He must have come from the tribes and a pagan no doubt. If not for his other more practical talents, I would have exiled him years ago. He preached of fire falling from the sky, of the very land splitting in fury, of a great deluge to engulf all! I had to hold Raghtimus by the scabbard just to keep him from beheading the fool where he stood. I must remember to promote the boy. He cannot have seen more than twenty winters, but he is disciplined and his conviction is true. Anyhow, I am fortunate that the people see this Damnil as no more than a harebrained lunatic. He was nearly stoned to a bloody mass when he began to speak of plague and pestilence. A