Bearn has been kind. As kind as he has always been. More so. He does not understand. He does not know all that has occured, but still he tries. He tries to comfort me. He offers food, shelter, company if I need it. He offers an ear to listen, but I find it hard to talk. I do not have the words to say how I feel. I cannot give voice to them.
Facts.
Facts are easier to speak. They are small pieces of absolute. Much more simple to navigate than the murky nature of feelings and thoughts.
Facts are what I spoke when they came. Davick and Marinette. Bearn must have told them. She remained silent for the most part. He spoke. He asked questions. I answered with facts. He is happy that his enemy lies vanquished. He is sorry that it has left me in such a state. He does not understand. I cannot make him do so. I cannot speak the words that might.
I see him. I see him when I close my eyes. I watch again and again as he is carried away by the water. I bear witness each time as he drops from sight over the falls. One after the next.
I try to remember. I try to ward away those images with better ones. I try to see the look in his eyes atop that roof in Bree. I try to see the peace on his face as he held me in Eregion. I try to see those rare moments when I would glimpse something beyond and behind his suffering. I try, but it is so hard.
His death haunts me mercilessly. Pictures of despair, pain, anguish. Effigies of loss. I need not sleep to see them. They come even in waking hours. Unbidden, unasked for, unrelenting.
Our words echo in my mind. I forgive you. I love you. The silence without makes them call within.
