He couldn't remember the last time he had stumbled home like this. Soaked hair clinging to his forehead. Jacket caked in mud. Entire body reeking of a mix of whisky and body odour.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd fell into his hall and dragged his inebriated body onto the cold wooden floor.
Couldn't remember the last time he'd grabbed onto the wall and pulled himself to his feet, legs weak and wobbling.
'That's me home, Ame-' He stopped, and slowly shuffled around the corner, entering the bedroom.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alone.
Of course she wasn't home, how could he have forgotten? For the past three nights he'd strode, then ambled, and now stumbled back to his home, each time expecting to find his love already there, sound asleep in the bed. But only a bleak hearth, an empty bed, and a steely cold loneliness occupied his bedroom.
He entered the room and kicked his boots off, sending them flying across the ground to land in the jaws of the large bear rug on the floor. The drunkard leant his back against the wall and slowly slid down into a crouch, his head lolling as his mind was racing with questions he found impossible to erase.
Why did he do this to himself? Was this how he'd spend the rest of his days? Did the drinking really help? Or was he simply fooling himself? By his choices had he simply condemned his love to die? Had he condemned himself? Was she already dead? Was he?
There seemed to be one thing he was sure of. Banorn had been right.
'Selfish sack of shit. That's all I am.' He growled, snapping his head back and smacking off the wall behind him. 'Selfish.' Again his skull collided with the bricks. 'Sack.' And again. 'Of Shit!' Three more quick, heavy thuds sounded as his vision turned more blurry than he thought possible.
But it was true, he'd only thought of himself. He'd chosen to stay behind to care for his daughter, a daughter that he'd hardly seen since he'd returned from Thorins Hall. He'd chosen to stay with her and let his love wander to a far off land to her doom. What had he hoped? That she would return? That she would come home safe and sound? That there would be a happily ever after with her as his wife?
How fucking stupid could he be?
He had been given the choice. Stay or Go? Bree or Gondor? Cirywen or Ameren? He'd chosen the former in all, and all because he'd thought of himself.
By fooling himself into thinking his daughter needed him, he'd given himself a reason to stay. A reason other than his own fear.
'I'm a wanted man in Gondor... Hunted by the law.' He'd told himself. 'Itll only put them in more danger.' Lies. They were already riding to near certain death. What did a little more danger mean to them? He snorted a laugh at the thought.
'I'm crippled, too risky for me to fight.' He'd told himself. 'I'll only slow them down. Put them in harms way.' Bullshit. He trained young lads how to fight in the mornings and they gave as good as they got most of the time. His broken ribs had not slowed him in kicking their arses about a training yard.
'My daughter needs me.' He told himself. 'She's just a girl. Only fifteen. She needs me here.' A fools notion. That girl was better off that he was. A larger house, a better, more consistent job, no form of alcohol problems. She didn't need him, and he'd come to accept that.
So as he sat there against the wall, staring at the ceiling, but not staring at anything at all, he came to one to one horrifying conclusion.
He should have been with Ameren. He should have been lying with her in a comfy bedroll. He should have been on the road, under the stars, living like he was still young.
But instead he drank himself to death every night. He went to work with a thumping head, aching joints, and tired eyes. And then went straight back to the drinking as soon as noon came around.
'You've never been in a sorrier state, old Conn.' He mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes over, slipping into a drunken sleep.
He'd dream tonight.
Dream of better days.
Dream of a different life.
Dream of going back and making the right decision.
Gods know he'd made the wrong one.
((This was quickly written on my phone, just to be posted up here. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors auto-correct has failed to pick up.))
