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Date: 11-11-09
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 1

Eion made his way from the tavern where he had spent the afternoon with Dolly. The lass was quite a clever card player and he had found his pockets a bit lighter but he didn't mind. The lass offered him company with no strings attached. She was bright, pretty and above all, had no designs on him. He often wondered on her story but didn't ask.   If she wanted him to know, she would tell him.   And she was a font of information which was part of the reason he spent time at the docks. He patted his pocket, smiling slightly at the crinkle of paper before he removed a cigarillo from that same pocket.

The English presence at the port had decreased some but there were still sailors about. Some didn't seem interested in finding another ship and they were the ones being watched.   Dolly seemed to have her own network but again, Eion didn't ask questions. He didn't want to put her or anyone else in danger.   After watching a ship leave port, he tossed the remains of the cigarillo into the water then made his way back to the castle barracks.

It had been a welcomed surprise when he had been given his own room in the barracks, though it seemed only the youngest squires shared. After greeting those who were lounging about, and grabbing a bite to eat, Eion went to his room.   It wasn't grand -- a bed, desk and chair in front of the single window, two comfortable chairs and a table and a wardrobe, but it was more than enough. He had added a bookcase and several books.   That was where he went once he closed his door.

The journal he withdrew was bound in dark brown leather.    Carrying it over to the desk, he uncapped the inkwell there and picked up the quill.   He lit the lantern on the desk after staring out the window for a few moments, then started to write.

My name is Eion Aodhan Quinn and at the time of this writing, I am 28 years old, the oldest of six siblings, children of Jaxon and Celyn Quinn. My siblings are Segan, Conor, Gemma, Melantha and Concessa. We were all born in Ireland as was our mother.   Our father and his parents were born in the land of Heathfield as were his grandparents. T'was our great-great grandparents who left Ireland for Heathfield to start a new life. We came full circle the day my sister, Melantha, came here, following the dying wish of my father.

It is because of my brother, Segan, that I am attempting to write this journal of my life. As he writes his own, he's inspired me.   It's to him and to my family, especially our grandmother, Mary, that I dedicate my scribblings. I'm not so good with words as he is, but there's much I haven't told my family, not even Segan or Conor, though I am close to both.   My earliest memories are following after father while he did his chores on our modest lands. To me he was the strongest and tallest man in all the lands, and he could do no wrong. Of course, when I became a rebellious lad, that changed though I still thought he was the strongest man I'd ever seen. Not just physically but in character. My mother was of course, the most beautiful and loving, while our grandmother was the wisest. We saw little of Uncle Brady for by the time I was old enough to go on my own to visit Gran, he and my father had a falling out and he'd often retreat to his study when we visited. Their feud ended with the death of my mother but I'm getting ahead of myself.   Our grandfather I remember as a sickly man who told the most wonderful stories of a place called Heathfield. But I couldn't see how it was better than Ireland and our own little village of Drogheda.

When I came to Heathfield, I wasn't going to stay. There was magic here and though I couldn't explain why it troubled me, I was surprised to find how much I feared it. Yes, it was fear that caused me to doubt that I could make a life here.   It took the words of King Karl to make me realize I couldn't throw away a chance at a new life because of my fear. So, it's here I'm going to write why I was afraid and in doing so, perhaps I'll make certain that it never returns. This is the first of my entries of course but not the last.

I was ten when this happened and it's one of the things I've never told anyone. My brothers, and I attended school when the harvest was over.   Our sisters were too young yet. Conor was in a lower grade of course and Segan one year behind me but we had friends from the same families. All nearly as big or bigger than our own.

Being Ireland, there were burial sites everywhere. We knew the stories of course. How if you saw a ghost, you could lose your soul or be trapped forever. How the wee folk could trap you in a faery ring and take you away to the hidden lands where you would not age. And when you return, all your family is dead. We use to dare one another to spend a night on one of the barrows or in a stone circle where the druids were have to held their rituals. We always found an excuse not to stay, even if we were full of bluster and brag.

One summer's eve I was walking home from one of my friend's house.   It was a distance from our own but we had no fear of highwaymen or robbers. Few bothered at that time though that changed in a few years. My friend's mother had packed me a meal and made me promise to stay on the main road. It was a clear night and the moon full but I still managed to get meself lost. Just when I was about to sit down and wail, I saw a campfire. There were shepherds about and thinking it was one of them, I headed straight for it.    There was a man sitting there, smoking a pipe while a rabbit cooked over the fire. He was dressed in mail and armed with the finest sword I'd ever seen. He had eyes bluer than Ma's and his hair was red. He had a great mustache too. Smiling at me, he invited me to join him.

I don't remember much about the meal except the rabbit was the best I ever had eaten. He said his name was Cian O'Cuinn and he told me stories about how a great battle was fought where Drogheda sits now between the Fir Domnann and the people of Danu and how many men had died.   As the moon began to set, Cian bade me sleep and I curled up on the blanket he had laid out for me and then he spoke. "Heed my words, lad, and listen well. I see for you a harsh road. Beware of the Fae folk though I cannae say why for that is hidden from me. Grow strong and know the wanderlust you will feel will lead you to many places. Make me a promise, Eion of Clan Quinn. Remember my name and this night. Stay loyal to your family and to the blood that flows in your veins."   I gave him my word and drifted off to sleep.

I woke once and he still sat there, watching the sky as he smoked his pipe, and he smiled at me. I don't think I've ever seen a sadder smile in all my life.   I drifted off again, waking once more to the sound of a battle. Cian was gone though the fire was still burning and I still laid on the blanket. I crawled to the top of the hill and saw before me a great battle with many men. Cian was in the middle of it and I heard his battle cry before he was surrounded by many men and cut down. I remembered I wept.

I woke with the sun on my face and one of my father's dogs licking my cheek. I was laying on one of the burial mounds in green grass not far from my home. There was no sign of a campsite, or that another had been with me. My Da swept me up, hugging me with relief, and as he did, he caught sight of something shining where I had been laying. It was a knife, long buried he said and it seemed to be a gift to me. I carried that knife until I was put in prison when it was taken from me. I was asked questions of course but said nothing of what had happened that night lest I be thought daft though I caught me Gran watching me at times, thoughtful.   Part of the reason I write is two days ago, I received a package.   There was no letter, nothing that told me where it came from. Inside was the dagger I had thought lost. Last night, before I went to the port, I went to the cliff that faces the ocean and there I lit a fire so that Cian O'Cuinn knows that even here, I honor his name, and I will never forget.

EAQ

Date: 12-07-09
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 2

The day was a rainy cold one when Eion next picked up his journal. He had been on the field most of the day, and had come in soaked, freezing and hungry. After a hot bath and a good meal, the rest of the day was his. The rain had turned to sleet so he decided to remain where he was for the remainder of it.   He knew Gran would fuss if he came in soaked and cold, certain he was still prone to becoming sick. The training he did nearly ever day had strengthened him but she wouldn't be convinced. He smiled as he thought of her as he returned to his room later that evening. The late afternoon had been spent talking to the other trainees, and playing cards with the older ones but now it was time for himself.

He picked up his journal again and went to the desk but didn't start writing. Instead he watched as the sleet fell and began to mix with snow. From his window, he could see the castle and only those on duty were venturing outside. Finally, he closed the curtains, lit the small hurricane lamp he kept at the desk and began to write.

It seems that most of the troubles in my life came from females in some form or other and that's including the mischief my sisters have caused. There's been more than once I took punishment so they would not but being the oldest, I felt I should protect them. There's a ten year difference between myself and Concessa and how could I let that adorable minx get in trouble for wandering off when she was told not to go anywhere or sneaking out to see the newest litter of kittens.   But that's the kind of trouble one expects from their sisters. As for the rest, well, these are the ones that stand out in me mind.

The first time I got into a fight was when I was only eight. There was a pretty little lass named
Mary Margaret O' Riley and I had a terrible crush on her. All I remember now is red hair in pigtails, big green eyes and freckles but I thought she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen at the time.   Her brothers happened to hate me though and when they found a note Mary Margaret had written to me, well, that set them off. Tom O' Riley was eleven and I guess he thought I'd be easily cowed by him. I was a big lad for my age and matched him hit for hit. It wasn't until Kevin O' Riley jumped in that they got the better of me. By then, Sister Patrice had come into the school yard and we were all three hauled off for a whipping with a hickory stick.   Wasn't the first time for me, nor would it be the last but it was the first time over a girl.

There were a few other girls after that but the next I remember most was a near miss. This time she was lass with hair the color of ripe chestnuts and eyes as blue as the summer sky. Her name was Brigid though everyone called her Birdie. Her Da raised sheep and one night, I took one of their missing ewes home.   Brigid had me wait in the barn after she took the sheep back to the herd.   What we did that night I'll leave to the imagination.   As dawn rose, she and I sat, fully dressed in the hay and talked about their horse who had gone lame. Her Da walked in on the conversation, and when Birdie told him that I had returned their missing ewe and was explaining what to do about their horse, he just grunted and went about his work. I think that was the first time I realized how lies came so easily to sweet lips and how quickly we believed them. Still, I never thought they could like to me without my knowing.

The third time was when a lass whose name I can't remember, kissed me in front of the boy who had claimed her. I was all of fifteen then and had won a spar against him. She planted a kiss on me that left me grinning and her beau scowling. Later that night, while our friends watched, we fought.   That was when me nose was broken for the first time. After that, we became good friends. I think he married the lass after I left Ireland.   Those were the times in my younger days that should have had warned me to steer clear but I had a dangerous look I was told and that attracted the lasses. Most of the time they were quick bed and tumbles, one night of fun, sometimes leaving on the run, pulling on me shirt while an angry father or husband yelled obscenities at me. Other times, there was a pretty farewell and a small scene while I marched off again to some other place where my sword had been hired.

Then there was a woman I didn't even know. I had been fighting for a Duke in Germany when apparently a few of the ten men under my command accosted an elderly Rom woman. She was furious and yelled out in a language I didn't understand. Later one of my men said she had cursed us and laughed it off.   The youngest of the group clarified. She had wished for death for us in the coming days and for those who survived, various curses of madness, sterility, and a half a dozen other things. Half of my men died the next day in a bloody battle but the deaths on both sides were the worse I had ever seen. The lad survived and he felt a great remorse and went on to find another to removed the curse. I could blame my present course on her, but the truth is, I didn't believe it then and still don't. I'm not even sure why I bring it up except perhaps that it wasn't long after that I moved on. And there the worse of my tales begins.

~tbc~

By the time I reached England, I had four close friends I fought beside. Henry Darrow was my closest friend of the six.   The others were Rob Davidson, Brian O'Connell, and Craig McPhee. The five of us together were a force to be reckoned with. Henry left us for a short time while we stayed in France, fighting at the side of some perfumed dandy of a noble. He wrote as we finished our time there and we decided to join him and his bride in England to serve under one Lord Jared Bennett. I was reluctant, knowing how the English felt about the Irish but Lord Bennett seemed different and so we agreed to serve under him. How wrong I was.

Henry wasn't there when we arrived in Colchester on a cold, spring day. Amazing how the weather there suits a good portion of the English. Not all. Some were good folks but most were a dour bunch. Considering their way of life, it was no wonder. We settled into service easily enough with little comment from the other men-at-arms. Lord Bennett was in charge of the protection of the lands around Colchester and it just took a few fist fights to win the respect of most of his men. The officers were different of course, but we didn't really mix with them. Lord Bennett had a son, David, who took an instant dislike to me but after a few months, he and his friends went to the Holy Lands.   By then, I didn't much care because I had met Jane.

How can I describe Jane Darrow? She was Henry's bride and he had known her since they were children. It was my understanding that their marriage was arranged by their parents. I'm still not sure of that. Henry had returned and though he joined us each day at the barracks, he returned to the home given to them each night. The first time I saw her, I thought one of the Sidhe had walked into the room. All the cliches fit her. She glowed with what could only be described as an unnatural light.   Her hair was like spun gold, her eyes were blue sapphires, her lips were delicate petals of pink, and her figure would make an angel jealous. And when she smiled, I swear I heard music.   I was polite, almost cool, but my heart beat so loudly in my chest I didn't understand how the others couldn't hear it.   Her smile was perfect and she smelled of wildflowers. I nearly fled that night when we left their home, knowing I had fallen in love with a married woman and one that belonged to my best friend. I did everything I could to avoid her, and spent my free time with other women, or playing cards but Henry would have none of it. He invited me to meals, and one night, asked me to escort her to the theater while he was on patrol.   On that night my fate was sealed. She confessed to me that she didn't love Henry and that she had fallen in love with me.

I wish I could say I regretted the times we stole away, the nights where we lay among silken sheets, and she slept in my arms.   But I didn't. They were the only times I was happy. What a fool I was to have believed she really loved me. Even when I was arrested, and in the greatest irony, by Brian and Craig, I believed she loved me.   When I heard the charges, I knew someone had set me up and being that David Bennett had returned, I believe it was him. I couldn't compromise Jane, wouldn't hurt Henry and so I denied the charges but refused to say where I had been. St. Osyth fortress was were I was sent but my only regret was that the stone walls kept me from my beautiful Jane.

It was a letter from Rob Davidson that opened my eyes. He, Brian and Craig had known what I was doing, even though I thought I was fooling them. I still don't know why they didn't tell Henry. Perhaps they had hoped I'd come to my senses. After my arrest, they worked hard to learn where I was but it took several months and by then, Henry was dead.   He had been sent on a patrol, without the others, without me.   And he was killed.   There were whispers that it was David Bennett who had killed him, and not an enemy but no one proved anything. I was numb when I read the letter and I remembered I howled like an animal in pain. Maybe by then, that's all I was.   And then I read the rest. I felt my heart crumble into a thousand pieces. "Not even a decent amount of time had passed for mourning when Jane Darrow married the elder Bennett and is now Lady Jane Bennett. David has once again left home and its whispered that he fears for his own life. I am sorry, Eion, but you were used as a pawn in a terrible game."   I had been used to cause the death of my friend, so that his whore of a wife could marry a man old enough to be her father. I hated her. I hated the English and I made the first of my attempts to escape. I don't remember much for several days but that I was in pain, not only physically but also mentally. I had been such a fool.

When a month had passed, I no longer was lost in that abyss of self-pity but I knew then I would never trust another woman save for those in my family. The blood of Henry Darrow has stained my soul and it will never be cleansed.   That is my cross to bear and until I'm dead and this journal given over to my family, they'll not know the whole truth of what happened. I am determined to speak to no one else of it though I did tell Dolly.   It will be up to my brothers to produce heirs since Uncle Brady has only girls. And yet, the thought chills me to the very core of my being.   I cannot write any more tonight except to say I have come to trust a few others, though not with my heart. Perhaps it is their innocence that I have come to look upon them as sisters, or in the case of Dolly, that she is as she is and expects nothing. That she works for the Crown is an addition, and I admire her bravery. I appreciate the times we've just sit and talked, or she's managed to lighten me pockets when we play cards.

The other night was a revelation for both of us. Doll told me much about her life and I learned that I have been the first man she's been with since she was young. I was astounded at what she's been through and yet, she hold no bitterness.   I'm comfortable with her in ways I'm not with others. Her acceptance of me has done more to ease the blackness of my soul than anything that has happened for some time.   But it is still a tenuous thread. And I fear my fondness for her will interfere with the few goals I've set for myself.   Only time will tell however, as I'm not sure I'm even worthy of those goals I set.

Have I damned myself forever? Or will it take only forgiving myself?    If I attempt to push myself, will I destroy what I've gained? Those are only two of too many questions and it grows late and I will be expected on the field no matter the weather. So I end this page and will write another day when the muse takes hold.

EAQ

Date: 12-27-09
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 3

It was another cold day but this one arrived with snow.   They still trained of course, and by the time the morning was through, most were soaked through, cold and hungry. Not all of course. It seemed the Horsemen were virtually untouched by the weather. Eion had been pleased with the morning even so. The spars with the Knights and the Kingsmen were the most satisfying and he was doing better against them. Not that he'd get cocky. That could be knocked out of him quickly enough though he was hoping that it would be one of the King's that would do so rather.

After a bath and a hot meal, he settled in his room. For a time he read, having found several books of the war with the Usurper, Rath, in the library. The stories of horror were matched by those of bravery, including the ones where his grandfather had rescued the horses before disappearing. He half smiled to himself as he closed the book, thinking he'd never tire of that tale. He had heard it from his grandparents, as well as his parents of course, and he remembered how the elder Quinns had spoken of being frightened, tired and hungry. That was rarely mentioned in the books. Moving to the window, he watched as the squires and pages engaged in a snowball battle.   Leaving the curtain opened, he sat at the desk and once again picked up the quill.

Today as the young lads prepared for training, I heard several of them talking about the ongoing problems in Kildare. They were wishing that there was a war they could fight in and it made me realize how things change as we grow older. When I was their age, I had fought brigands and though it wasn't a full blown war, I didn't think it such a glorious thing then. Of course, before that, when Segan and I first began our training, we were the same way. It seemed a glorious thing to consider, going off to battle and returning to our proud parents, to our king and country.    We'd race up and down the hills with Conor toddling behind and shout out our war cries. Gemma would play as well, pretending to be some brave lass from history. We'd attack imaginary enemies and tumble down the hills but never would we suffer a wound.

I met Laird MacCarthaigh when I was fourteen. And soon I had coaxed Da to allow me to train with him. Segan followed not long after and even Conor joined us when he was old enough. He carried the flag the first time we fought and I remember seeing him standing there so proud. He never faltered, even when men were dying around him and kept the banner of MacCarthaigh held high.. The outlaws were not organized, nor did they have the weapons the Laird's men did.   We didn't kill any men that day ourselves, though both Segan and meself helped cut down some of the outlaws. I saw the fear in their eyes, felt me own gut rolling with fear. I will admit I even threw up after but it was still what I wanted to do, what I felt I was meant to do. It was not as glorious as we had imagined but the rush I felt couldn't be matched by anything else. Of that I was certain.

There were many minor clashes but the biggest one came when I had just celebrated my sixteenth birthday. By then mother was ill, becoming frail though she still was the glue that held the family together. I knew Segan and Conor were somewhere close.   We had cast first blood before this battle, all three of us but I knew Conor's heart wasn't in it. He wouldn't back down, would defend home and hearth with his last breath, but this would be his last fight under this banner. It made me sad, but I was so very proud of him. I should make sure he understands that even now. I have been and always will be proud of how he served in those days and even now, I'm proud of the man he's become. Even if I don't understand him at times.

Segan I wasn't sure of as of yet, but soon wanderlust would take him away. The sea called to him with her siren's song though he had yet to fully come to know what it was. My pride in him remains as well.   He stayed for a little longer but he'd be gone all too soon as well. That day, we all three fought well. The outlaws had combined, hoping to stop the campaign against them. Some said it was a Clan war as well but I never did learn the truth of that. I caught sight of my brothers briefly and said a prayer that the three of us would be unscathed that day. Physically we were. Mentally was perhaps another matter.

Nothing can describe the feeling as two armies faced one another, the bravado, the shouts and howls of the war hounds. And then the complete and utter silence. Not even the flags flapped, not a horse moved. It seemed as if time stood still and then the noise began. Shouts, and insults, the banging of steel against steel. It built up until it echoes off the hills. I remember thinking how green it was that day, how bright the sun, and then I saw him. Cian O'Cuinn stood at my side, fully dressed in armor, sword and shield in hand. He looked at me and nodded not saying a word. The charge was sounded and I looked away. When I looked back, he was gone. I had no time to consider what I had seen because we were charging forward.

Perhaps that is what we should explain to the youngsters who are so eager to go into battle. The smell of fear, of blood, of death. The noise, though intense, is unreal, and at times, it seems as if time slows.   Adrenaline takes over, and you're constantly on the move, trying to avoid horses, bodies and weapons.    And then, suddenly, it's over. All that is left are the smells, the cries of the injured and dying, men, horses and hounds.   I am certain each of us had killed several times overs but in the middle of the celebration, all I felt was exhaustion.   We left the field to the older men, those who would finish the outlaws, and to the priests who would tend the living and the dead. I saw a lad my own age pardoned by the Laird on the field. Perhaps I would have seen it as a kinder act if the lad hadn't been minus an arm. What harm could he do now?   As we returned to our tents where we'd fall into an exhausted sleep, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. It was Cian again.   "You've chosen a hard life, Eion. You must be prepared for how your soul will become." I would see him again, on other fields of battles, but those words stayed with me and I would still hear them before each skirmish.   Do I wish I would have heeded them and chose another course? No. It has led me to where I am and perhaps in time, I will find the bravery to actually search my soul. For now, I am coming to accept who I am.

EAQ

Eion dusted the sand over the last page he had written upon, just as he had before and waited for the ink to dry. He collected the remaining sand and closed the journal, looking up as a snowball thumped into the glass. He started then chuckled and shook his fist in a good natured way at the boys who laughed and ran off.   Closing the journal, he stretched before deciding to head for the main barracks.   He'd see if there was a card game or even just a chance at some friendly conversation. The journal was placed back into the bookcase before he left the room. There would be more to write when the time came.

Date: 03-25-10
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 4

It had been a long time since Eion had picked up his journal. Life and circumstances had kept him busy to the point he often fell into bed exhausted. But today had been a quiet day. Herself had gone off to visit a friend who she had rediscovered and who lived in Ballicastle. Segan was off on his ship and his sisters were busy with other things. Spring was coming to the land though there was still a chance of snow. As he entered his room, he paused.   He would be a knight soon from what he understood, likely by the Queen, or Crown Prince, or perhaps Peter. The truth of where King Karl was had finally been told and it was troubling.   It seemed not all was safe here.

He took out the journal and opened it, reading the few entries he had made before taking up the quill. After a moment of staring out the window at the fading day, he dipped the end of the quill into the ink and began to write.

I have neglected writing for longer than I intended. Life has taken many twists and turns since last I wrote though I can't believe it was during Yule. First and foremost on my mind is the disappearance of the King and three of his Horsemen. It has caused a pall over the land and the morale of the people who serve him and the Queen has dropped. She puts on a brave face but her sorrow is almost palatable. Even the children are affected though I think perhaps Princess Lydia doesn't understand.   I have not spoke of this to my family but will. I think it has begun to spread.

The second is Dolly, whose true name is Dairenn. She carries my child and refuses to marry me because she feels it would be a blot on my family name. I continue to try to change her mind but she is as stubborn as I am. She glows as most pregnant women do now that she is over the morning sickness. I have talked to Segan about her and he feels Grandmother and the rest of our family will have no problem accepting her. I feel the same but it seems impossible to convince her.    Do I love her? It would be wrong for me to say yes as a certainty. I care for her deeply, and would die for her and our child. But I begin to think I'm incapable of truly loving as I should. Which brings me to the third.

We have cousins, from an uncle thought dead. They came to us with a tale of a man who wanted me taken alive and brought to him in Barbados. After deciding to accompany them, I learned that Henry Darrow had not been killed, Jane was his sister, not his wife, and I had been duped by them both. I feel nothing for Jane now, and only anger for Henry, no, not anger. It had faded to disdain. He was not the honorable man I thought he was. The months in prison were because he thought to protect me from the plan he had made.   I lost time that can never be replaced and it changed me forever. I no longer feel guilt even though I had Jane was his wife when I laid with her but what I had felt darkened me in a way that I may never be fully free of. Still, I have forgiven myself somewhat and I know Dolly will never hurt me intentionally. She is an angel, the voice of reason when my darker moods consume me. Perhaps that is close to love. I know I'll continue to ask her to marry me but wonder if she'll ever do so.

My cousins are the fourth reason that I have neglected writing. There are many in Barbados, much to the delight of my Grandmother. She writes to them and has written their names in the Bible that is her prized possession.   The ones who came to Heathfield are Liam and Ciarán, grandsons of the brother of our grandfather and their close friend and blood brother, Evan Hunt. The fact that they searched for me and told me the truth says much of the type of men they are.   They search for their younger sister who went missing following a raid on the village where they lived in the colonies. Two of the Private Investigators went with them back to their home to try to find clues and it is our hope we soon come to know another cousin. It is amazing how the family has grown. since our coming to Heathfield. Life has been full of surprises -- some good, some not so good. I wonder what's next to come around the bend.

EAQ

The smell of the evening meal caught Eion's attention as he finished writing and he dusted the page to help the ink to dry. The journal was left on the desk, open until his return when he would put it away. There was no reason not to let it sit there. Though what he wrote was not a tale of his past, it was something he wanted to add.   Perhaps he would write more about each later, but tonight, it was enough.

Date: 10-13-10
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 5

Eion found time, after many months and several previous, to sit and attempt to write in his journal. He had gone outside and found a spot that overlooked the training field and barracks. Several of the squires were training on the two gauntlets and their laughter drifted up to him, causing him to smile. He studied the paper a moment before he began to write.

Once again, it has taken me time to write... seven months in fact. It amazes me how quickly time moves. I had made several false starts but was distracted or called away each time. Dolly is advancing in her pregnancy. She amazes me with her beauty and her certainty the child is a boy. We do not discuss marriage anymore since I feel she does not need the added pressure. I have told Herself about the child and she managed to not only meet Dairenn but invited her to dinner. They get alone quite well I was concerned that Dolly would continue to try to find the girls brought here but she is careful for the sake of the child and has allowed me to do so in her stead. Because of whom I am, I have had to seek help but those I have found are trustworthy and we have brought several young girls to safety. The family of one had been searching for her frantically and she is once again home.

The greatest news of course, is that King Karl, the Horsemen, and two of the men who were with them were found. All were injured but the Horsemen are back on the field, in limited training. Word is the King is recovering and will soon join them. The change that has come over the knights, squire and court, as well as Heathfield itself is amazing. Summer truly has come to the land and any pall that had been cast over is gone. Of course, there are many questions but it is certain that some will be answered.

My cousins have returned, and brought with them their missing sister. She is a pretty lass, lively and I think she and Concessa will become good friends. They have their own manor now, not far from ours. Gran is still discovering more relatives. I can see a visit to Barbados in the future. Hopefully Henry Darrow has moved on.

Now that the king has returned, I am hoping to be knighted soon as well as see several of the squires do the same. They are good lads and except for occasional bouts of mischief, do well at their lessons. They'll make excellent knights. When last I wrote, spring was approaching and now we are in the midst of fall. It's breathtaking here in Heathfield and thought I don't care much for the colder weather, even I have to admit that winter will be the same. And now, it's time for me to head for the manor for dinner. I will do my best to keep up this time and not let so much time pass.

EAQ

He leaned back in his chair, allowing the ink to dry before the journal was closed and put away. Picking up his cloak, he headed out of his room, greeting those within the hall and promises to give his grandmother their greetings. She would be pleased to hear she was so well liked. With a smile, Eion stepped outside. Tonight he would walk to the manor, enjoying the cool, crisp air until he was once again among his family.

Date: 03-27-11
Poster: Eion Quinn
Post # 6

Eion's life had been a whirl of change since December but finally, it was settling. He had been working in the fields, looking over the grounds with Melantha, and talking over how things had changed. Mel was happy to have her husband back home, unharmed and with tales to tell and Eion found he was quite impressed with how young Prince Tykir and the new knighted Bannon had handled themselves. They were still normal lads on the field but he was certain everyone was glad of that. Now, as the house quieted, he made his way into the study and sat at the desk. His journal was kept locked away in the room that was his and Daireann's but tonight he had brought it out and read over it. It was very lacking if it was something he wished to share in time. Sitting down, he took out quill and ink and opened to the next blank page.

I find that once more I have let far too much time pass and yet, this time for good reason. From December until now, life has been a constant whirl.   On the 16th of December, during a blizzard, Gannon Jaxon Eion Quinn, came into this world, in the cottage of the Celtic gardens. Originally it was to be Gannon Jaxon but somehow Eion got added. And to Gran, he's little Jax.   That same day, a few hours later, Daireann and I were married. Since then, we have lived in the manor with most of the others. Though Conor no longer lives there, he's there more often than not, and Gabriel married Melantha so he is also there. Of course, it was no different before except now, there is a wee babe to fuss over.   All of three months old, and he has every female in this house wrapped around his tiny finger. What amazes me is how content the boy is, with hardly a whimper.

Segan has set a date for the spring and Conor, to my amazement, is befuddled by a lass. So, all that we have left is our Gemma, though she might not count, since she has seen Patrick Frasier a few times, and our Concessa. Of course, the cousins have yet to be caught, save for Evan who is seeing the eldest McCormick lass. Heathfield however, seems to have its own agenda when it comes to affairs of the heart, so we'll see.

Conor is a large part of why I feel the need to write tonight. He asked me if I truly trust Daireann.   I answered as truthfully as I could. I trust her as much as I can trust any woman... and that's saying a lot. I had been certain I'd never trust any woman again after Jane. Foolish perhaps, maybe selfish, but I do trust Daireann. She would never betray me, never purposely hurt me, and I will never do either to her. I wasn't sure about love, and perhaps I'm not still but I don't think it would have lasted with Jane, even if the circumstances had been different. She was too selfish, too self-centered and I would hope, in time, I would have realized it.

I sit here now, and wonder, am I certain what love is? I do know there are different kinds of love.   I feel something different when I look at Jax though it's more a feeling of protection and of awe that this small being came from the two of us. I love my siblings, my grandmother. Daireann is a different love. She still seems so small and frail though I am aware of the strength she holds.   She amazes me with her devotion and love for our son and stuns me with what I see in her eyes when she looks at me. I like the way she smiles when she catches me watching her, and her laugh when she's with my family. And I like that she is waiting for me when I come home, even if she's fast asleep. I am ... content. How odd I never thought of content in this way.

I had to pause in my writing to see to Jax. He was fussing in that way babies have, not quite crying, but whimpering. He looked up at me when I checked to see if he needed changed, and smiled in that funny way he has. Now I sit and hold him while I write and have to try to catch my thoughts again.

Let's see. Kildare is safe again, the threat of the Witch gone for good this time. Heathfield held its breath when the Kings and their men rode out with Leoric. What no one knew was the young prince, Tykir, sneaked out with them. The lad is going to be quite a man when he grows. He did well during a battle he wasn't expected to be part of as did the new knight, Bannon Zimmer. I see them on the field and wonder if I was ever that intense, or that prone to trouble. The answer has to be yes. And because it's my intention to make this a telling in part of my history, I will turn back to that next I write. But I have a son who is growing hungry and must give him over to my wife who has begun to stir.   And I will try not to be so long in writing next. time.

EAQ

Instead of making Daireann come to him, Eion carried the babe to her. He kissed the top of her head and left her to feed the child while he returned the journal to its place, to wait for another day. Quill and pen were put away and then he joined his wife and child in the bed. Though he tried to stay awake, talking quietly to both Daireann and their child, his eyes soon closed and he drifted to sleep, using his contentment as a cover.