Stolen Memories

[Onkel Bob]

In the far reaches of wilderness, where no man walks and no man-hunting beast follows, lie silent places hidden. Silence, so precious in these lands, is the closest thing to peace of mind one can hope for when home is so far away. Even if the lull from the chaos is often cut short when duty calls for engagement with the human settlements again, it has been needed to maintain focus. To shed distractions from the mind and to remember what truly matters.

The silence is not a true silence. The rustling of leaves and branches in the wind, the rushing of water, the presence of wildlife that also only seeks to be alone is there to be heard. The sounds are a sliver of memory from home, where time is endless. But these lands are not ours, and in time these hills will also be ravaged like every other corner within the reach of men. That is a reminder, too.

This strange mingling of memories gives some clarity of the present. Moreso when one has witnessed the squalor and fetor in which men live. The beating and wailing that echo through their streets day and night. The sudden clashes of steel as neighbours try to carve out patches of each others’ lands to add to their own. Fire roars and crackles as their indigent homes are set aflame, cattle, women, and children still inside. Even the gentry pride themselves in stepping on the hands of those who are laying the pavement of the roads that lead to their ostensible luxuries.

Each of them live only for themselves. Greed and cruelty runs rampant. The air is filled with disquietude wherever a civilized soul can be found.

In silence, when what is important is remembered, the contrast to the realities of this realm is alarming. We will endure as we always have, but just beyond our borders chaos reigns, and chaos can mount an invasion at a whim. The remains of our foreign cousins’ history are a testament to the human stampede. While they have forgotten, we remember in silence.

In an effort to extend our responsibility of remembrance, we have sought and acquired relics that belong to our cousins who neglect to protect them from pilfering men. Aside from an outsider minstrel who decided to help, the effort has been an unnoticed kindness. That is for the best.

Now these relics have been brought to a silent place, where they can be remembered for a fleeting moment.