Subject: Re: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective

Pensive wakes with the taste of strange blood in his mouth. He retches, and hurries outside to vomit.

Nothing can escape the gaze of the Devourer. No life is too small, no soul too insignificant. Not even the soul of a little elf-boy hiding in a beat up cabin, hiding behind the legs of Men and halflings. . .

Pensive wipes his mouth and spits, then throws up again. And all the while, the chittering voice from Mt. Kessel scrapes over him, laughing at his weakness, his youth, his insufficiency. It bears him down suddenly, a huge weight that presses his face toward the pool of vomit on the ground. Drown you, the voice whispers savagely, I'll drown you in your own bile, and I'll catch your soul as it ascends, and devour you, eat, eat, eat. . .

Pensive forces himself up, and the weight rolls away from him. He catches his breath, and thrusts his hands into his sleeves to clutch at the silk cords wrapped around his arms. He will not weep. Pensive dams the tears in his eyes, forces his shoulders to stop shaking. The Shadow was not so strong yet it could kill him.

"Is that all your power," he whispers to the east. "It is easily remedied."

Gully's well had not been fouled by the enemy. The Path had granted them that small mercy at least. Pensive fills a trough with bucket after bucket of water and undresses down to his breechcloth. He washes his clothes first, scrubbing out the vomit and muck until they are clean. He dumps out the water, and fills the trough again so that he can wash himself.

As dawn creeps through the Shadow covering the sky, Pensive sits bare beneath it. Calm. The Shadow could see him, but he stood on the Path, supported by the Stone, quickened by Blood. Here I am, he says to himself. The Path is not straight, nor is it soft. My feet are upon it, and my legs are strong to follow it.

He stretches his mind out. The priest that Sa'id said was coming. . . where was he? Pensive's fingers find the holy symbol around his neck. Men are dying still, all over the island-- what are the chances of finding a single soul in all that pain?

Look for the one man who is calm and sad. Pensive almost laughs at the thought. Well, successful or not, he could make the effort at least.

So while his clothes dry, Pensive meditates and tries to find the emotions of the Sunmaster amidst a sea of anger, fear, rage, and hunger.