I will endeavor to write this entry without falling into the detours that so often afflict me when I put pen to parchment. Let us see how well I succeed.
There is always such a burden on one's heart, when they have to tell friends they are going away. I dread it each time. I suppose I place this weight upon myself; that I am obligated to remain and care for anyone I take into my heart. The light of disappointment in another's eyes - of worry, sadness, loss - is more dreadful to me than a whole host of orcs. I have told those that chance permitted me to tell.
I am sorry to leave Orduin behind, after just having reforged our acquaintance. He has a generous and noble heart, but seems to carry his own yoke of sadness that I don't fully understand. He is in good hands with Lady's company. I feel certain he will find purpose and fraternal comfort there.
I hope I can find Eoheort before I depart. Of course, there are still preparations to be made. He mentioned having something for me. I cannot imagine what it is?
Elfswith fell to tears when I told her. It was impossible not to find my own eyes burning and damp when she embraced me and bid me safe journey and a swift return. She has been far more of a friend and - dare I say it? - mother to me, than an employer. A pity it is, when a woman looks to her employer for an embrace and tender farewell, instead of her own mother.
As for my own parents, I will speak to them upon my departure. I doubt they will have much to say on the matter, unless it be some new form of displeasure for the choices I make.
I find myself distracted by the sylvan scene outside my window. I wish Spring did not remind me of him. I cannot enjoy its lively beauty as I once did.
I will have to leave letters for Gamferth and Waelden, as I cannot rely on seeing them in person. Gamferth is much occupied with caring for his mother and their farm, and Waelden is ever on the road to perform his duty. Perhaps I will be fortunate and bump into them unexpectedly. One can hope.
I had thought to send letters to Bree, to Cesistya, Aeruthuil, and Leoffrith in particular, to tell them of my plans. But I thought better of it, realizing it would take the letters nearly as long to arrive as it will my own self. And if any trouble should befall me on the road, I would not wish them to worry endlessly about what happened to me. I do not even know if any or all of them still reside there, or will be by the time I come.
I know not how to tell my kin-sister. I think she knows that it has been a possibility for some time. But lately, she seems not to take much notice of my presence, nor make effort to speak to me when we are in the same place; most often the tavern in Edoras. Gone, it seems, are the days of feeling her arm through mine when I stood at the counter, and she would slip up behind me like a bird on silent wings. Of watching her and Hund swap their flirtatious banter while the rest of our friends stood near, sharing all the mirth and warmth that one’s heart could desire. Life, it seems, is never content to allow happiness to remain in one place for too long.
Eoheort and Saexwyrd have pledged to watch over her, not only while I am away, but steadfastly. The former speaks words of great boldness and confidence. I admire him for it, though I have a slight fear he may press hard. My kin-sister carries a burnished facade, but there is fragility beneath. I wish I knew more of it myself, but even with me, she is ever elusive and dismissing. What do I know of her, after all? Only that she comes from Eaworth with the mead deliveries. I see kindness and warmth and mirth in her eyes, but these are merely traits. They are not her. I wish I could have known her better.
And this brings me to the last. I will not spill my guts here on this paper. To do so would mean writing until my fingers bleed.
...and now I do not know what to write at all.
We spoke. We embraced. He was hard and unflinching at first. I was afraid we would part ways bitterly, and it would have sealed our doom. I spoke my heart freely, and to my immense joy, he softened and the wall vanished. I understand his fears and his hurt and his worry. Would that I could somehow remove them all for him! The thought of him sitting and brooding with thoughts of me is agony to my heart. Perhaps the spring and summer will ease it. He has Weda, after all, to keep him busy and to bring him laughter and affection. He worries that I will find Conrob’s ghost in Bree and not wish to return to the Mark. I am not worried for this. His ghost has never left me. And Bree is not home anymore.
