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My elder was a man known for his relentless efforts to keep the path a friendly place to call home. A man of collections, of immense knowledge and lust for discovering even more. He had left so many times before and it had never felt permanent. I have no idea why this departure felt so different. Leaving was nearly a habbit. We'ld hear of a new area to explore and he'ld be gone for days, sometimes weeks. We were always eagerly awaiting his return to discover the maps he had drawn and the stories he would share. Sometimes he would bring a treasured prize home, other times he would look worn out, nearly exhausted but... He would always be smiling. Yet the day he departed for the high seas looking for a glimpse of his past, I knew something had changed. He had passed days on end with his head guide explaining how to keep the group together, explaining him what tasks to focus on. The dangers that would threaten our circle and the woods beyond. While the days passed and the time neared, he would start sharing his treasures as a loan while they felt more like gifts. Before the final day he shared the last of his joyful spirit while passing on leadership. It was with mixed feelings but I remember we all enjoyed the feast. I must've felt something was about to change, something strong, something strange... The day of his departure, with a sad face, he hugged his friends farewell, leaving all of us with a bitter feeling. This journey was different and we might not see him return. There were dangers no man had ever faced before. Was it the violent nature of those he was looking to knot ties with or perhaps the dangers of the high seas none of our ships were built for ? Nonetheless he had to go, he felt his life would be incomplete if he didn't attempt this final trip. His friends waved him farewell from the shore and a few hours later we'ld be sharing memories of the times he helped us achieve our greatest victories. Several moons had passed when a peasant found his body near the Buyan coastline. What we had all feared came to be a reality. We found some relief in a note he carried in his pouch. It was neatly put away in a closed bottle so the water could not reach it. The note read: "There's no place like home to share the stories of my journeys. I wish my mind would have listened to my heart. You my friends are my only true family." Thankfully the peasant knew of our circle, remembered the name in the signature and cherished the legend of the body he had found. It was a sad day when we recovered his body to bury it in the wilderness. Oddly, the burial didn't feel like a new departure. He had already left months before it, taking good care of us. We could go on without him but a void in my heart lives on to this day. Whenever that feeling of melancholy hits me, I bring back memories of the day we met, the day I was walked and the friendship we shared. I hold close the treasures he handed down to me to keep his memory alive and relive that last walk with him to his boat and the smile on the body that washed ashore. A final departure left a void that only the taste for adventure he instilled me with can fill. When I leave for days and sometimes far more, there's something that pulls me back to keep his memory alive. It's sharing with you the tales of my own journeys beyond these kingdom walls. Nohjis | |