From merrie@umich.edu Date: Sun, 11 Sep 1994 16:16:04 -0400 (EDT) From: Merrie Haskell To: thari@umich.edu Cc: samolnar@umich.edu Subject: Laughter's Diary 1 Morning Darkness. I like the hours before dawn the best. There is something about a morning that is not yet morning and yet is no longer night that appeals to me. The wisdom of the preceding day lingers, but the freshness of dawn has already arrived. The candle burns down, gutters out. The faintest of lights creeps into the study, and outlines the sleeping form of the na siogai on my couch. He rests peacefully for one so battered. I could look upon him with less hatred, but why? It is not yet time to give up my hatred for my enemies, for my enemies are still with me. The na siogai are still out there. Perhaps it is time to give up the anger, I don't know. Other angers grow. This immense restlessness with life here... It claws at me, keeps me from sleep. Do not misunderstand. I love this land. I would have given my life for it, but there is really too much pain associated with every place on this earth. There is no city I have not defended and seen over run with the damn na siogai or the puca. There is no plain left unbloodied by the clash of armies. London itself, as the place where my sister died and my brother betrayed me, is too painful to walk in. It was once the city I loved above all else. Now I seclude myself on this remote estate, and let the world come to me when it must. Enough of this thinking. The faerie stirs. He awakens suddenly, painfully. Cold iron is the deepest pain for his kind. I used to relish that. Now it has begun to sicken me. It no longer atones for the deaths. I am disturbed by the manner of his arrival. The woman in the dark cloak, who cut out his tongue. Even the na siogai deserve a clean death without much undue torture. Noon Riftvan Vetch and his lover Ariana, these two elves who know so much of Amber, one my prisoner turned guest, the other a possible enemy also turned guest, are sitting in my nursery with their children. I am almost regretting my foolish haste in agreeing to keep Riftvan alive, because I suddenly remembered that saying about he who saves a life is responsible for the actions of the saved until death itself releases the bond. Of course, I am coming to realize that I am out of my league in all this business with Amber, but that is hardly the point. I did not kill him, and now he's responsibility. Lord Almighty and the Lady of the Trees protect me, and tell me, doesn't insanity run in my family? Well, no use crying over spilled milk. After all, it's something to think about in the years that stretch before me. I would assume I am just as long-lived as any of my kind. Eventually, the pain of the circumstances of the war will pass, and I will continue to rule this land, immortal and ancient. Acute boredom will fade away into phantom pain, perhaps... I don't know. It's only been two years since the war. I really hoped that when the war was done, Mother would come and see my face and *know* that she cannot keep me here if she wants me to accept that this world is not real. It's all I have, you know. I don't know how she thinks I could do otherwise than take it seriously. I've made Mother angry. She went off all in a huff, and I have no way of getting ahold of her to apologize. But how long can you keep a human being in a cage, no matter how big it is, and expect it to be content? ----- Mer Haskell merrie@umich.edu Southern/Northern crossover, King Arthur fanatic, river rat, pooh Taoist, lover of trees, history major, and then some