The Miller's Journal
This volume is written in Taldane, and is written in a precise script that looks almost as if it were printed onto the page. The name on the inside cover is listed as George Miller, and the entries often speak (fondly, mostly) of their partner, Ethed.
17th Neth: This evening, I am feeling happy. The breeze carried such sweet smells this day. I spent the afternoon watching the sun dance through the tree limbs. I think I even saw a rainbow - no, not a rainbow; more like a shimmering halo - crowning the massive trunks. Why was I ever frightened by something so beautiful?
16th Neth: This evening, I am feeling... concerned. During the night, two large, bare trees grew just outside of our farm. They are massive things, nearly as tall as the mill as it sits on the hill. Perhaps this is a sign that we are finally being blessed, and that life is shaking off the effects of this damned blight; but I can't help but wonder what sort of tree can grow that rapidly at this time of year. Ethed shares my sentiments, but - ever the practical sort, as he is - says we shouldn't spend time worrying about them until we know more about them. Strange things aren't always bad things, he says. And, deep down, I know he's probably right.
Older entries are less relevant, but detail the panic that gripped the town when the blight struck, and the re-assurance they felt when Warden Blackthorn arrived.
17th Neth: This evening, I am feeling happy. The breeze carried such sweet smells this day. I spent the afternoon watching the sun dance through the tree limbs. I think I even saw a rainbow - no, not a rainbow; more like a shimmering halo - crowning the massive trunks. Why was I ever frightened by something so beautiful?
16th Neth: This evening, I am feeling... concerned. During the night, two large, bare trees grew just outside of our farm. They are massive things, nearly as tall as the mill as it sits on the hill. Perhaps this is a sign that we are finally being blessed, and that life is shaking off the effects of this damned blight; but I can't help but wonder what sort of tree can grow that rapidly at this time of year. Ethed shares my sentiments, but - ever the practical sort, as he is - says we shouldn't spend time worrying about them until we know more about them. Strange things aren't always bad things, he says. And, deep down, I know he's probably right.
Older entries are less relevant, but detail the panic that gripped the town when the blight struck, and the re-assurance they felt when Warden Blackthorn arrived.
