Year 331, Twelfth Age
Fading, Day 21
Mopeybeard's father brought him up to town today, so I skipped school to go hang out with them. Mopeybeard's dad didn't look too pleased about that. I think maybe he brought Mopeybeard during the week because he knew I'd be in school then. But he didn't say anything, he just glowered at me. So I hung around, and Mopeybeard made friends with Fluffy, and we actually had kind of a good time. I mean, we got to wander around the big market, and watch Mopeybeard's dad bargain with clothiers and rug-merchants and an alchemist. Apparently he sells the products of his forge up here, then buys stuff like that and takes it back down to resell in the Underhalls. I'll bet it works really well, too.
Anyway, after a while he let us wander off. Mopeybeard set up on a corner, singing and playing his lute, and actually got a bit of a crowd. (Even if they did keep saying things like, "Do you know anything more cheerful?") He sings really well, for a dwarf who's still too young to drink. And even if most of my people didn't properly appreciate him singing about how depressing it is to live in the dark all with a bunch of dwarves who spend all their time working, I really enjoyed it.
Then Mopeybeard's father came back and collected him again, so I went home. Mopeybeard would love to have me come visit, but I can't see in the dark (yet) and anyway there's no way my parents are going to approve a visit to the Underhalls. So I'm stuck here in Sunvalley, at least until I graduate. Or grow powerful enough to travel the roads of the dead. There's a thought. Anyway, it's going to be a while, however it finally works out.
When I got home, my dad gave me a long look, and then just said: "You owe Miss Gentlerain a page describing what you learned at the market today." Which tells me two things: first, that the illusion I tried to set so everyone would think I'd been at school all day didn't work. And second, that apparently the school just decided to go with it. I gotta say, that does make everybody's life easier. Which, since we're all treading ineluctably towards our inevitable deaths, seems like a pretty sensible idea.
Good night, diary. Tomorrow we'll try to summon a ghost again.