Measures: (Heart's Ease)

Ian walked the Road away from Camelot, his soul torn and heart breaking. Perhaps Islena was right. Perhaps he was a coward, but he could not do what Blackhawke had done. He was not a follower of the faith the Monks belonged to, and could not bring himself to seek their aid. The meditations he had been using had had some effect, but seeing Susan every day weakened them and he was not sure how long he could keep on before his resolve weakened. He had to hold! The happiness of too many people was at stake. He needed time...

An image long buried came to the forefront of his mind, an image once more from his childhood, of a time before the sorrow that forced him into manhood. He held that image in his mind's eye and strode further along the Road.

Shortly after, far to the west of Camelot, deep in a forest that few mortals even knew existed, an opening appeared, and Ian Blackthorn stepped out into the place of his birth. He had come home, home to the Forests of Green Silences, and to the very spot of his birth. This was the Fountain of Mezumiiru, Mistress of the Moon, and by tradition the birthing place for babes of the House of the SilverRose.

Tall ancient trees towered all around, the leaves and branches forming a roof high above the clearing. Only one shaft of sunlight split that canopy, to shine down upon the clear waters of the Fountain and the stream that fed into it, the stream called Heart's Ease.

Ian walked across the grass and knelt beside the fountain, cupping his hands and filling them up with water, then bringing them to his mouth to drink. For there was another purpose the fountain served, a purpose only a long-lived race such as elven-kind required. The weight of years for elves sometimes was made the greater by the added burdens of sorrows. And so they came to Mezamiiru and drank from Heart's Ease, and their grief was soothed, never wiped away, but made easier for them to bear. So, at least, the legends said, and as he drank Ian prayed to whatever gods there might really be that the legends were true.

He sat back and rested his head on the fountains edge. He listened as the trees sang of times long past and elven princes long since gone in the mists of time. He closed his eyes and slept, and while but a few hours passed among the lands of Men, Ian slept a year within the enchanted glade.

Ian awoke, as he had that morning in Camelot, with the sun warm upon his face. He smiled as he stood and stretched, and it felt good just to be able do that for the simple sake of smiling. He looked about him one more time, took a small sip from Heart's Ease, then filled his water bottle to take home with him. Home, to Camelot... The anguish he had felt over Susan was still there, but now it was not as great, and he no longer felt such deep despair. It was, he knew, for the best, and he would find peace in the daily routine of his duties. It would be enough. He summoned up the Road, set his feet upon it and went.