I am home.
My hand trembles as I write the very words. A part of me finds it difficult to believe that Gamferth and I have made it here at all. Some nights, when the cold wind would not relent, and we could hear strange and foreboding cries in the hills around us, I thought the southward road might never end. And yet, by Béma's guidance, through cold, rain, hunger, darkness, pain, and blood, we yet live and now stand upon the soil of the Mark. Covered in mud, our clothes stained and torn, I am certain that we must have looked quite a sight to the men of Forthbrond when we emerged from the valley seeking rest and shelter.
We stayed a few nights there, sleeping harder than we had for weeks, and eating our fill of the bread and pottage they were so kindly willing to share with us. How odd it felt, to suddenly be surrounded by men of fair hair and blue eyes like ourselves! After living so long among the dark northerners!
Today we took our leave of our valiant and gracious hosts, setting out before dawn, and made for Grimslade. The relief of being within safer borders, of not having to gallop for our lives at every snapping twig, was profound and strange for both of us. We rode slowly, letting poor Sig and Jack walk at their leisure. Bless them both, most valiant and noble of horses! How willingly they carried us over all the long, wearying miles. Now may they both have rest and hay and pampering to their hearts' content.
With the sun climbing in the sky to the east, we paused before taking the road south towards Grimslade, and stood atop a tall rise together. Far in the distance, many leagues off, we could see the tiny shapes of Edoras upon its hill, shining in the first rays of sunlight. My heart swelled with feeling, and everything blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I can hardly put my finger on what I was thinking and feeling in that moment. Relief to be home. Pride in how far we had come, and all we had struggled through. Eagerness to gallop over the plains and see and touch every rock and tree and blade of grass again. Gratitude for my dear Gamferth, the warmth and steadfastness of his friendship, his company, his encouragement. But behind it all...
Conrob. My heart was exulting and shattering at the same moment. Such a bewildering mixture of joy and gladness, with grief and sorrow and longing. That he should have been there with me. How proud and happy he would have been to see Rohan for himself. The wound never heals. It only goes quiet for a time.
But what is there to do, except soldier on? A daughter of Eorl cannot become idle with self pity. It will not do. Whatever agonies my soul suffers, they must be suffered in silence. There is no other course, for to give in would be to condemn myself to become a grey-faced shadow of mourning that will only end up in a grave herself. How long does a woman mourn for the love she lost? Forever, I think. Yet I am not the only woman to have lost a husband. Others have survived such tragedy, and I shall, too. I will not falter under the embarrassment of grieving him as acutely today as I did the day I received the news. Whether my soul finds a way to heal or it doesn't, I will go on.
I pray that there is respite to find here. Peace. Healing. Hope.
