9:45 Harvestmere 19.

[murderbaby]

All encoded (and in Orlesian), save, obviously, the Tengwar, which is just Tengwar.

The script is like nothing I've ever seen before. Each vowel is added to the proceeding consonant. It makes me wonder at a language that has names that have clustered consonants. Look at poor Thranduil. The middle of his name looks like a bloody firework display.



At least my mother's name looks rather nice. I can't say the same for my father.



In any case, it's diverting enough. It could be used as some sort of code, if one could learn it well enough, but I don't know how many people Thranduil has taught this, nor do I think he'd appreciate his people's writing being used for such a thing. I would have to ask his permission, should I submit it for official use. However, private correspondence... if I were to know someone else who knows it. Which I do not. My mind continues pointlessly fevered.

At the very least, this will cement in my memory how to spell the Provost's name.

I wonder about him. How does one look at the world when one is immortal? How do the assassins, the mercenaries, the lowlives of his domain live? Surely they must exist. Crime is a feature of cities, even immortal ones. At least, one would think so. I cannot imagine a world-- a country, a city, a polity-- without crime.

...I'm sure that says something damning about me. I don't care. The world is what it is. I live in this one, not another. A city with no crime is as fanciful as Thranduil truly being a spectre of the Fade.

(I noticed, when I called the elves of Thedas 'a dying race', he did not respond. Ascent, or not caring to argue? And why were you bating him, Mhavos? Utter fool.)

If he found out about my past, would he see me as a monster, or a victim of circumstance, twisted into this shape by human corruption?

(He seems to see humans-- as a race, not as the individual-- as a corrupting force. I don't know how I feel about that, nor do I think need to. Who cares for your thoughts on every little thing, Mhavos? Not an immortal. I feel as though I barely care what I think, sometimes.)

I think I would prefer the former. Whatever was done to make me, I consented to my creation, even under duress. I do not wish that to be forgotten.

I did what I did on orders, for my survival, but that was a choice in itself. I could have said no. I would have been killed, cast aside or ruined for it, but I could have. That I was (am?) cowardly, biddable, and eager to please... those are factors, and they should not be ignored.

If I was born into his domain, I would not be myself. I could not exist as I am, like he is. I would be someone so different, there would be no comparison.

I have done horrible things. Those things cannot be erased or undone. They are nothing to be proud of, but they are me. I am myself, for all the good and ill it does. I will not throw that responsibility on others, however culpable they also are.

How depressing this is.

βουλεύω - I plan
βουλεύεις - you plan
βουλεύει - they (singular) plan
βουλεύομεν - we plan
βουλεύετε - you plan
βουλεύουσι - they (plural) plan

Alfonso X is fine enough, but he could use some work. Or perhaps that is my bias; I don't like his choice of subject. I find myself increasingly drawn to more... I'm getting older? Growing old? I can feel my tastes changing. I don't want to read about romance anymore.

This exercise served absolutely no purpose but to make it harder for me to sleep. Writing ones thoughts is meant to calm, not rile. I can't even manage that correctly. Perhaps I should take up drinking.

Dear Mhavos,

Do not become a drunkard.

Signed, Mhavos.