Found:
Resolve.
He stole my bedroll. He stole my bedroll! I laughed until tears leaked from the corners of my eyes when I realised that.
Lacking anything warm or comfortable to protect my flesh from the rocks of the roads, I decided to go into town and see if I could find him to ask what he'd done with it. Of course he was nowhere to be found. I did, however, find a flyer documenting an inn just outside of town. Perhaps the rooms would be cheaper there?
Curse my "luck," it turned out to be owned by none other than my most favourite skirt chaser, Seaver! Joy of joys. I ended up spending some time chatting to the man. As ever, he was annoyingly affable. It's almost like he wants me to like him! Regardless, I managed to get a cheap room which is nice. I think I'll stay a few days, make the most of the comfort before I...
Anyway, my second search for Dagramir proved to be more fruitful. It was fun... at first. We laughed, we joked, we were just about to embark on the flirting when... some mousy little thing came scampering by. Dagramir lost all humour, then. I assume that was the woman he mentioned when he was drunk. I'd assumed him more prone to women with backbones, but whatever. It's none of my business, really. Moments after she shuffled back out, another one came in. I'd seen him talk to this one before. Friends, I guessed. The moment he saw she had a nose bleed, he pulled away from me and left to check on her. Kind of him to show concern for a friend. I wonder what that feels like...
He said he'd be right back. Passed right by me on his way to the back rooms to reset the woman's broken nose and stopped to tell me that he'd not be long.
He was.
He didn't come back.
So there I was, standing around like a bloody idiot, awaiting the return of a pretty little Gondorian who had no intention of returning. I should be angry. I should be hurt or offended or... anything that isn't sad. Why am I saddened by this?
I know. I don't want to admit it, but I know.
Just to make matters worse, who should happen to walk in right then but Eordion.
Eordion!
The last person I had ever wanted to see. The last person I had ever wanted to talk to.
The moment I saw him, I walked away but he recognised me. He followed. I tried to play the fool, feign ignorance, pretend I had no idea who he was. He was as insistent as ever. Bastard! He forced it. He forced the conversation that I had avoided having with him ever since my return from Ost Forod.
There was shouting, accusations, finger pointing, blaming... all that annoying stuff that people find so dramatic. I had never wanted that. All I had ever wanted was to just be allowed to walk away, to leave it behind, to forget...
But I can't, can I?
I never can.
It's etched into my mind. It colours my skin. It's always there no matter how much I try to reject it. No matter how much I try to push it away. I'll never be free of the truth. Eordion... he's just a reminder of what I've always known, what I've been shown. Even Dagramir, a man who has known me for a handful of days, can see it.
