[The writing is in Aduniac. It starts neat, then gradually gets messier as the writing continues. Several tear stains and the ring from a cup of tea are splotched across the parchment.]
Madaurbeth,
It has been a while, and a lot has happened. Where do I start? It started at the Attack. Angmarim attacked the inn and threatened my beloved Nimraph, as well as myself. Demlemoth forced us into hiding, and it was difficult. We were initially at- well, a place that did not comfort me. Nimraph could have comforted me, but Nimraph kept sneaking out. One time I left to find him, and Demlemoth was obviously displeased. I decided to stay behind, but Nimraph kept slipping out. The second time I left, honestly, was out of spite. Nimraph apparently had no rebukes while the one time I left I was yelled at. Of course, Demlemoth was angry yet again.
Egfor, may his ancestors bless him, sat us down and we managed to sort things out after many tears, and Nimraph and I got relocated to another location I find a lot more pleasant. I suppose one good thing came out of being in that place though, Nimraph and I are a lot more... intimate. We share the same bed.
Honestly, I feel desires that are outright animalistic, base, for him. I long, crave, yearn for his closeness. I... I think I want...
Okay, enough of that. It's making me flustered just thinking about it.
But more on Nimraph, oh my goodness. His youngest son called me his mother. I am close to the age my mother had me, but I feel so much more... not younger, but unprepared. Then again, I wonder how prepared she felt with me. But I have no idea how to be that for them, even when my mother was good to me. I am of course frustrated that Nimraph has been leaving, but I cannot fault him for the mission I discovered he had. Now, I just want him to stay with me though. He's the only person who knows the same guilt for the past that I have. All the people, far more innocent than me, that I have killed in service to my father, the Dark Lord, and even my own desires. He knows, I know he does. He is older than me, and left far more recently than I have. I would not be surprised if his sins were close to that of my father's. And it comforts me, sick as it may seem, that I am not alone in my existence of shame.
I think on my father and mother constantly. My father is very much hunting me now, and it's strangely easy to reconcile that with the past. He was harsh and stern, made me do things with the flick of a wrist that I regret to this day. The more my loved ones surround me with their love, I wonder how much my father actually loved me. Yet, I still hope that someday he could take the same path Nimraph and I have. My mother. Oh, my mother. She knows that Aglaruri died in Ithillien a couple years ago. She has no idea I am still alive, out here. Would she be angry at me if she found out I left Mordor, abandoned my duties? Would she feel betrayed? Was she revolted hearing what Aglarari was, murdering her - our - own people for trying to survive? Is she grieving me now, or thankful I am gone? I let her down in immeasurable ways, and I cannot ever make it up to her. I am a sinner in every way to her.
I am thankful for Egfor. When Demlemoth blew me off, Egfor tried to understand me, and even told me that my feelings were valid. Demlemoth hurt me with his words. Sure, I felt cold blades, rough animal claws, burning rain, and stinging whips in my life. But words still hurt worse. He told me that I was a child, and that I would never be free. It burned me inside, and I wanted to retaliate. Thankfully, Egfor was there every step of the way to smooth things out. When I heard Demlemoth praise me for the first time in so long, I could finally make eye contact with him again.
I feel trapped. I was stuck, and still am. I am jealous of the freedom everyone else seems to have, while I am caged in the bars of safety. If being stuck in the same four walls is safety, I would much rather die free. It's not like I deserve a second chance anyways, with all my dark deeds. I feel so pent up, so emotional, and I need some sort of outlet. This journal is helping, but it is still not helping as I hoped. I find myself starving for Nimraph again. Maybe, I will ask him....
I have so many more thoughts in head. My energy is depleted. So, I put the pen down and retire.
~ Eira.
