With each passing hour, I feel more and more ready to make my departure. It is not a matter of emotion or thought. My heart would keep me here with those I have grown to love. My thoughts would tell me that the distance is too long, and the risks too great. No, there is something deeper that harangues me, all the way to the marrow in my bones. I cannot wait it out, I cannot flee from it, I cannot ignore it any longer.
Perhaps I am a mad woman after all. But could I be blamed for it, if I am?
Jack knows something is niggling at me. He hovers now, always at my shoulder, bumping his nose against me. I reassure him again and again, but there is no deceiving this wise beast who has know me all my years. He sees the saddle bags being packed, the preparations being made. His hooves have been checked, cleaned, readied. It will be pleasant to ride without all the burdens of traveling in winter.
Waelden asked to be allowed to accompany me to the Gap. I would have refused one request, but he asked again in such an earnest, gentle manner that I could not deny him. I relented partly because of something he said to me. Something about understanding that doors to the past must be closed, lest they allow old ghosts to come back and haunt again. I think he understands my grief more than any other of my acquaintance, having lost his own beloved wife. His company is warm and comfortable, and I'm glad to have it for the first leg of my journey.
I did not see Eoheort at the Edoras tavern last evening. I will try to find him before I go, but I cannot delay, as Waelden must make his way home after we reach the Gap, and I would not hold him longer than necessary.
I will try to see Gamferth as well, but if it is not possible, I will leave a letter for him. Dear man, I pray I see him again in good health when I return.
I will not go before seeing Saexwyrd one more time. I have a terrible worry that something might happen to me on the road. I hope it is only an irrational superstition, but I must be satisfied that I have said all I need to say, and hold him a bit longer, before I leave.
I fear my beloved friend is lost to me. I cannot surmount the wall that has been created by her choices. The betrayal and hurt is far too immense. I torment myself with warm, fond memories, and ask myself if any of it were genuine. Or was I simply played for a fool? It would not be the first time I was blind. What else can be concluded, when a soul chooses a path away from goodness and honesty and fellowship, and towards isolation and grief and hurt? I may never understand. So be it. There is much in this life I do not understand.
Speaking of unfathomable mysteries, I can still scarcely believe that I saw Firithain with my own eyes, late last evening. I thought at first that my mind was playing tricks, as I was deep into a somber reverie, thinking of all that has transpired and all that is yet to come. But it was he, I knew it well enough when he spoke again and did not fade like a phantom mist. It is hard to recall now, how our last meeting went, back in Bree. I cannot remember it, to be honest. My mind does not seem able to sort through those days anymore. It is mostly a blur of tears and agony and desperation. He seemed calm and temperate while we spoke. Serene, almost. I was glad to see him well and whole and, for all appearances, happy. I am saddened to be leaving so soon after meeting him again, after such a long time apart. I hope he is still to be found when I come home.
Now, I must turn my thoughts, else this weight of parting will crush me.
