Hyrien stirred slowly from her sleep, twitching and turning from an already set nightmare that had recently become all too familiar in the dark. She turned, arm stretched to grasp what was next to her, tugging at sheets that was once occupied by warmth and something familiar. Now all that remained was the cold air of the untouched part of her bed.
She sighed deeply, laying once more upon her back and stared up to the celling. Blinking a few times as she adjusted to the darkness and the shadows danced round the room from the embers of an already extinguishing fire.
Since she was small, she had never really needed to sleep long. Though, that was the aim of survival back then. Sleeping too long or too deeply would end up being the last of you in your fortunes or your neck. However there was no real need for the little sleep now. She had a nice home and a comfortable bed but the habits of Gondor seemed to die hard.
A sigh escaped her lips again, Gondor. She missed the place, as much as she hated also. Bree culture always continued to confuse her and that niggling continued to drum in the back of her head until it had become all too loud to ignore.
She wasn’t sure what was stopping her now. Her past? It was little more than a memory and there was little improvement on the news coming back from her homelands. The war was brewing, she knew this, and she doubted that there would be many that would give her a side glance for going home for a while. Going home indefinitely.
Home? What an alien concept to her. Home was where the heart is, or so she had been told, and here she was in Bree, “Home”. Then why did her heart feel so empty and then skip a beat with the mention of Gondor. Someone was clearly lying to her, or at least she was lying to herself.
It was starting to become clear to her that she had made up her mind, but the war still raged on in her brain. What did she have here really? A part from the Bloody Dawn there was nothing left for her. She closed her eyes in frustration. What little good did she really make? She was the captain by Hardoleth’s will, but that didn’t make her right for the job.
She grumbled, pulling the covers over her head and pulling her knees up to her chest. Everything seemed such a blur to her lately, or at least that might have seemed in a drunken haze and she was definitely in no state to lead them. She eventually sat up, pulling a parchment and quill from her side table and furiously started to write.
To my officers,
It has come to a time I must leave Bree and head home. Bree has no place for me and my heart is yearning for home to fill the emptiness I feel inside. This is, however, no permanent situation. I do not intend to give you a date of my return, but return I will.
Therefore, it is with a heavy heart that I must step down and leave it to you all to choose someone to take my place and be the Captain I was never able to be. I am no leader, I am a sell sword, I am murder, I am a thief and most of all I am a Gondorian, who needs to feel her home once more under her feet and feel whole again.
In time I am sure you will understand my decision.
N'i lû tôl
Hyrien
As Dawn broke over the hills in Bree-land, the Dawn hall laid empty and quiet, but for a single piece of parchment, fluttering gently in the draft on the desk in the office overlooking the path outside, where the shadow of the former captain disappeared into the distance.
