Naridalis’ Diary
Trestlebridge Inn, by the Wildwood, Third Age.
This day has left its mark upon me. Not by blade or shadow, but by doubt.
I have walked through bloodied ruins, through ash and betrayal, and now I stand at a crossroads, not of road or trail, but of conviction. We found the workers slain, their cargo vanished, their lives spent in silence. And then came Mattas, with his smooth tongue and shadowed wares, offering a path forward, if we would but hold our noses and walk it.
Alairif stood against it. Stood against him. His voice was steady, his honour unyielding. I admire him greatly for it. But I wonder... can such absolutes hold in a world that is no longer clean? His is a noble heart, but nobility can be brittle. I fear he sees only the white and the black of things, while the world moves ever more in grey.
And yet… what of me? Am I too willing to compromise? Too eager to do what must be done, rather than what should be?
It is easy to say “for the Company,” and harder to weigh what is lost in the doing. But I have seen the Company struggle to hold itself together. I have seen good folk try to build something true.
If I can help them, must I not?
I think often now of the Golden Wood. The hush beneath the mallorn leaves. The simplicity. The stillness. I yearn for that peace. But the world beyond has grown loud, and dangerous still, even after the Enemy’s fall. Darkness wears new faces now.
This is the Age of Men. And I... am not one of them. But I cannot hide in the wilds forever. If the Elves are to remain in this world, we must choose not just to witness, but to act. To guide, perhaps. Or to stand beside them, when they falter.
I only hope I am not faltering, too.
—N.
Continues with “A Daughter's Bargain”
