She was leaving.
With Nimraph distracted with his children outside, Eira at first did what she promised to Egfor. She was cooking lunch for them. She used her newly caught fish from the lake to make some salmon patties with vegetables, as well as a sweet cherry scone dessert. Gifted alongside cherry tea for the beverage, she placed the meal on the group's usual table. It was enough for Egfor, Demlemoth, Nimraph and his sons, as well as up to three extra people. Eira then, more discretely, worked on the final entry for her meal. The letters.
She wrote them in haste. She cried, she bit her lip until it bled, she had to set the pen down and pace before returning to them. These were the last words she would ever be able to give to her friends. What words could be used to describe how she felt for them? She had to be swift, however, before Nimraph or Egfor came inside and discovered her plans before they were sprung. After messily writing letters to Nimraph, Demlemoth, Ristiinna, and Egfor, she placed the letters by the set out plates and utensils for their meal. Then, she went to her room and changed.
Changing into her armor and dawning her rustic sword, her heart ached as she gathered any belongings she needed into her pack. She cried. First in her room, them she bawled again when she stood before the doorway. This inn, the Huntsman and the Stag, had quickly become her home. She would never see her friends again. She would never share excited chatter with Ristiinna at the Prancing Pony. She would never share deep conversation with Demlemoth over a meal. She would never share banter with Egfor as they worked in the orchards. She would never be able to hug Nimraph again. She would never be able to kiss Nimraph. Tears flooded her eyes, though she had to hurry. The forces of Mordor could be coming here right now! What good was staying if Egfor's inn was burnt to the group, her friends slaughtered for protecting her, and Eira's selfishness leading to only ruin? No. No, she had to leave. She had to return to the shadow, to keep her friends in the light.
She was going to turn herself into her former masters. She would face torture, she would face death, and she would lay down her life for her friends.
She dried her tears, putting on a brave front. Placing a mask over her face, she finally slipped her pack on and took up her walking stick. This was it.
This was farewell...
