As always, dear sister, a day among humans in this land of Axanar provides nearly a constant barrage of events.  As I wrote last night, today began the spring festival of this small community.  While certainly lacking in many of the colors, events and traditional sights we might expect to see at home, the village craftsman had their wares on display, and food and drink were in plentiful supply.  I truly enjoyed myself throughout the first half of the day, and a spring festival is a joy to see, whatever its incarnation and origination, regardless of tradition.

Perhaps midway through this beauteous day, screams of anguish arose near the gates to the small village.  While perhaps not unusual in larger cities of humans, where they seem to steal and beat on each other with regular abandon, such distress in the days here appeared strange indeed.  Out of curiosity, I followed those who turned and hurried out of the tavern to the street near the gates. Standing in the street and sobbing was an elderly human sobbing about her Gavin, who turned out to be her grandson, apparently a small child who had been lost near a stream or forest glade nearby.  

Shockingly, it seemed like few were interested in assisting with the child’s retrieval, for fear of wolves.  I know wolves can be dangerous to the livestock of a farm and perhaps a lone individual, but a large group of villagers could easily have handled such a situation.  Even with the lack of militia or watch, I certainly thought these people would band together.

A small group did arise, the two Naugrim, plus a farmer, who by her directness and tone was used to giving commands, hurried out of the village in the direction of where the child had been last seen.  The blacksmith and his friend did seem adequately armored and armed, and a briefly seen forest walker appeared to join the group, armed with scimitar and bow.

I know that the elders and history of the Noore’i OioKalina argue and direct that such an event is irrelevant to the mission at hand, and that it’s not even an elven crisis, but you know that children are such a rare blessing, and although humans breed constantly, a child in crisis is a child in crisis. As it was obvious that I was probably the only person with any sort of combat training and experience thanks to those years serving under Prince Darthoradan, I decided to follow the group, just in case they should encounter something dire or extreme.  

I include a brief re-telling here, in case misadventure should occur in the future. In such an event, hopefully this journal make its way back to you.  To sum it up in one thought, thank the Valar that I followed this small group!  No doubt they are all brave individuals, but their complete innocence in skirmish was shocking.  I knew not what we fought at the time, although someone later identified them as a cresnaur, a truly horrifying nightmare of a creation.  A pack of several had trapped this child in a tree, a smart and lithe child that, scampering up the sides of a medium oak in his terror, this pack of mis-identified wolves were a fearsome horror of evil.  The blacksmith charged immediately into the fray, assuming a single foe when we were shortly surrounded by the pack.  Brave, incredibly.  Tactical sense, non-existent.  Pressed from all sides, the individuals fought hard.  Superior blade-work necessarily ruled the day, leavened with a couple of combat spells.

The foursome I joined fought ferociously, if brutally and with little grace.  The dwarf Azgul swung his battle axe like chopping wood, his companion Noll like banging rock.  The wanderer Xyerius indeed used bow and scimitar, although with little evidence of prior use.  Surprisingly, the farmer, Adelaide, proved to be a minor wizard of some note, with several spells of knowledge and power.  She also fought adequately with a bow, something I have not seen combined here in these human lands.  Powerful enough to already have summoned a familiar, if I remain long within these parts, it may be intriguing to see if she is willing to share some of her spells or allow me some study of her spell books.  Even a scroll or too, as it has been difficult to acquire new and interesting work within this lands, and even less time or ability to set up a small area for lengthier study.

I digress as usual when the topic turns to the study of arcana, as I am sure you remember from similar conversations during our youth.  We rescued the child and returned him to his family and the events of the following day shall be recounted upon waking on the morrow, as the soul and body, weary from exertion, call for the reverie early this evening, and I must of course finish my study, as well as my meditations calling upon Lorien for guidance.