I sit here now in the Prancing Pony, seated in my usual chair near the fireplace in the hallway. Arugru is next to me, his thin but large body leaning against my leg and his huge head laid upon my lap. He looks happy, content, his thick furry tail occasionaly making a muted thud upon the wooden floor as he raises then drops it in a subdued wag. The gentle crackle of flames upon wood fills my ears, the acrid smell of smoke from the fire filling my nostrils. It is comfortable, peaceful, and only the occasional person passes us by at this time of day.
I find that it is easy to let my mind wander at this time, my thoughts drifting back and back again to days long gone. The memories are not entirely pleasant but the weight and warmth of Arugru against my legs lends me a calmness that allows me to examine those recollections without being overwhelmed by them.
I find myself thinking of a place and a day so far removed from the present. The river in the south of Eregion. Even now I remember it so very well. That was the day that I believed Drevorin had died, flinging himself into the churning waters to be free of me. It had a profound impact on me - I knew that at the time - but only now do I recognise that day for what it was: that was the day it started.
I suppose it is safe to say that I have always been something of a fragile personality, regardless of my determination to be otherwise. All that happened in the prior years, all that I knew from my earliest days, has served to make me this way and even though so many have done so much to heal me, I can no longer believe that my improvements were much more than a thin veneer of varnish laid over the delicate parchment of my mind. That, of course, is not their fault but rather my own for not being stronger.
I look back now and I see that that was the day when the cracks began to show. I had not yet managed to overcome the trauma of it all, my feelings of guilt, betrayal and regret when he came into my life anew. It should not have been possible - he should have been dead - but there he was and Davick was the one to take me to him. It was all so strange, so surreal, but I accepted it and the cracks became imperceptably wider.
In the weeks and months following I was caught up in an almost constant state of turmoil. I had no chance to simply breathe, still myself and consider what had occured for I was too busy defending Drevorin to others, arguing with everyone I knew, trying to help him heal his own broken mind, keep my relationship with him together and keep my friends happy. It was overwhelming. The pressure was too much, especially when Davick and Drevorin began fighting again.
Snowed under by the bad feelings from others, always needing to defend myself against those I knew and many I did not, I struggled onwards but felt like a drowning woman swimming against an impossible current. With every inch of progress I made, I fell a little further beneath the surface, the light gradually dimming until I was blind and could no longer see the way forward. Caught between two men at war, both of whom I adored and both of whom used me against the other whilst I fought in vain to keep them from one anothers throats, the cracks within grew evermore.
I almost broke so many times, but managed - sometimes with help - to claw myself back together again, to go on that little bit longer in the face of animosity and despair. I could feel it all slipping away and like a fool I tried to hold on, tried to keep that which I should have let go.
When Milawyn tried to kill me and Davick left off his own fight to come to my aid whilst Drevorin followed after the treacherous wench, I should have known. I should have walked away from him and not looked back. Stupidly, I tried to salvage something from it instead, setting myself up for his inevitable betrayal. I should have seen it coming, I should have heeded Davick's words, but I was blind to everything by then. The cracks had become yawning chasms, sucking me down into their darkened depths.
The final straw was Siward's repeated attacks upon me and my subsequent slaying of the man. That is what finally broke me. My actions that day - my taking of a life even in self-defense - went against everything I have ever believed in. The guilt for what I had done, the regret, the anguish for what I had become crushed me utterly.
Is it any wonder that my mind retreated from it all? Is it any wonder that I shattered so completely? Even now I do not recall what happened after that day, but I do know that to blame all of my troubles on those around me is both unfair and incorrect. Had I been a better person, had I been a stronger person, perhaps I would have weathered it as any normal woman should.
I look back now and I see it for what it was. I see my part in it as well as theirs and whilst I know that they were at fault, I am aware that I am also. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but it does not change what was. I can only hope that I am able to learn something from all of it.
The first lesson, I think, is that I have never been as strong as I have tried to be. In fact, I am forced to conclude that for all my words to the contrary, I quite likely remain as fragile as ever I was. To give into that knowledge, though, is folly. It is better to accept it and then try to change it than simply lay back and let it be so.
Arugru huffs softly now and it seems that he hears my thoughts and agrees. Perhaps, though, he simply wishes to go for a walk.
