Chest of Nostalgia



Windows were flung open despite the cold as Egfor dusted and cleaned the house. It became a bit too much for him at one point, and he finally closed the windows. He strode into the bedroom and looked around. He hums, getting on his hands and knees, looking under the bed. He has not cleaned under there since he moved in. He furrowed a brow and reached, snagging a small wooden box with his fingertips and dragging it out.  He pushes himself up with a groan, cursing his knees in his age.

Egfor plopped down on the bed, using his sleeve to wipe off the dust on the outside of the box. Carved into the sides were various symbols of protection and shapes of deers. He opened the hinged lid, looking inside. He hesitated, seeing all the memories held therein. 

He bit his lip and started unfolding the letters tucked inside and reading them. Love letters and poems between him and his old loves. He had to stop and collect himself every so often as memories came rushing to him. Nestled between two letters was a dried and pressed stalk of lavender. He smiled a bit at seeing his favourite flower. 

Egfor's smile fades as his fingers touch an old, plain and worn ring. The symbol of his previous union to Wulf. He sighs, holding the ring in his hand for a moment before dropping it back into the box. He murmurs to himself, "I really need to get rid of this stuff."

He unfolded a map, his eyes tracing over the charted route he took from Snowbourn to Bree. An arrowhead dropped out of the map and into his lap. He picked it up and stared at it for a long moment, lost in the flashbacks and terror of the Hornburg. 

He gave his head a shake and slid it back into the box beside a slice of a deer bone that was from his first hunt. 

He let out a soft chuckle, picking up a worn and broken toy of a horse. Its jointed legs snapped off. Its real horse hair tail and mane fell out long ago, a few scraggly hairs remained. It's paint had long been worn out by a child's playing hands and a nostalgic adult's worrying hands. 

Egfor muses, "Looks like a potato with a long neck." He picks up the snapped off legs and the horse and stands up, setting the box of memories aside, searching for Dem.