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[Ari]

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*Lars rubs his chin and puts on his reading spectacles ("eyes aren't quite what they used to be," he ponders to himself with slight lament) and walks over to one of the enormous shelves of books and scrolls in the Casteson library.*

*Holding his chin aloft slightly as he peers through the bottom lens of his glasses, he runs his fingers deftly along the spines of many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, reading the titles and muttering to himself as he goes.*

*"Ah!, HERE IT IS!" he exclaims, in a sort of Archimedes..."Eureka!" type moment. He helfts a huge, well worn and quite dusty leather hand-bound tome, bigger than the size of most family bibles off the shelf with a groan. He hauls it over to the desk where he had previously been working, and drops it rather unceremoniously down on the tabletop with a dull thud, a doughnut-shaped cloud of dust flies out from below the book as it lands, rolling over the desk in the shape of an a-bomb shock-wave.*

*Lars pulls back the large leather cover by pulling on a small iron ring, coughing slightly from still more dust as it flies from the hand-drawn and lettered title page. The book was a collection of the best poetry from masters in all the lands of Sosaria, and amassed here in one giant volume by the monks of empath abbey. Large, hand-drawn illustrations were on each facing page, and each poem began with a hand-drawn and embellished drop capital letter, and each page was outlined in a friese of mythical characters. It was Lars' favorite, most treasured book, and one of the few possessions he brought with him when he left the abbey.*

One didn't thumb through these pages as one does with modern books. Lars drew each enormous page back carefully, as one draws back a bed sheet....

*perfect...Lars smiles to himself, time to polish off those monastic writing lessons, he says aloud as he sharpens a quill and rummages through the desk for a blank piece of parchment...and also some tracing paper*

*The rest of that evening, he painstakingly copies the work from the old book, using only the light of a solitary candle, and his best caligrapher's hand...when he has finished the parchment, including his own hand-drawn drop cap and friese, he sets to work tracing the hand drawing on the facing page, being extra careful to not danage the original depiction of a pregnant maid, with a flower laurel in her hair, reclining in a window box with an open book, faced-down in her lap, and her hands gently holding her belly, stairing out of the large arching crosshatch window at a bright orange harvest moon and stars.*

*When he has finished them both, he rolls one inside the other...attaching a small note of his own to his beloved sister-in-law. The note reads, "My Dearest Beloved Sister, A gift for you in celebration of your felicitous news! Love, LC" He ties the bundle with a red ribbon and seals it with the family's wax seal. He ties it to the leg of a white turtle dove, and with a whisper of "To the Lady Ari!", releases his charge into the air and watches it disappear over the horizon."*


To my unborn child,
what I wish to give you in times to come,
happiness, and wisdom,
a life filled with fun,
to explore all adventures of your curious mind,
to become knowledgeable of what you'll find,
as I await your arrival and the presence of newborn cries,
I picture how you'll look when I open up my eyes.
I feel your movements every time I wake each day,
letting mommy know that you’re okay,
obstacles I hope you'll overcome,
education I know you'll get done,
I stay up late reading to you,
talking to my stomach,
a feeling I never knew,
hungry all the time
'No doubt you're a child of mine',
You make me feel happy even when I'm sad,
because the formation of another life makes me glad.
Proud of you I am,
I already know how you'll be,
a smart 'lil' person for mommy to see,
no worries from me a mom to be,
to a special baby I can't wait to see.