A pie sits burnt in the oven. My mind a blank. It is difficult to think around my flower. Could she be listening to every single word in my head? I contemplate this absurdity for a moment.
I think there is no doubt that she loves me. However, I pause. The scene snaps back to a house on the hill in a village not too far from mine. Conscious what is happening to my body but lacking in any control. As if I would be outside of it. One, two, three. Hack. One, two, three hack. Blade in hand. The mother of my first-born daughter stood there. No, no, she needs to move away. I am not in control. Let the tree bear the brunt of the beast in me not her.
Snap. My mind flashes back to reality. My flower's words echoing in my mind:
If we end up breaking up. Will you kill me?
I paused.
If we end up breaking up, Would I kill you?
The thought flashes through my mind.
My appetite is lost. Suddenly that rabbit pie doesn't look quite as tasty anymore. Especially not blackened as it is.
Indeed, since those ominous storm clouds this morning as I walked through Bree. Since her failed suitor warned me that he would either kill me or die trying if he had to. I have fret. Though not because of his words. He would have to die trying. I do believe I love her, I do believe she terrifies me. Perish the thought that I would harm her sweet face. She told me that in the note I had apparently written whilst in no fit state to remember I have said that I have killed innocents who were witness. She thought that I may want to try to silence her if we ever parted on bad terms. I still do not know what it is I wrote exactly. I find it disconcerting.
I have made errors, errors lead me to kill those I shouldn't have. Either those who would report my killing of those deserving of death to the Watch out of a sense of goodness alone and ruin me or simply by mistaken identity. Dark urges or no, it cuts me to my deepest core to think about them. I swore I would not become my father. He murdered indiscriminately in the end in thanks to that wretch.
It has crossed my mind, the thought of her attempting to use leverage against me and share my innermost thoughts. She is a girl fond of playing games. The language she uses. I still remember the words that she uttered, Knowledge is a blade. Will Knowledge be the name of the blade that finally cuts me down?
We sigh softly, we soak in each other's presence. But I am so unused to speaking my thoughts aloud it can be easy to endlessly talk about nothing rather than the matter at hand.
Another thing that bothers me is her youth. She is younger than she claims. It becomes more apparent when the mask breaks down. In truth, she makes me feel like a teenage boy again. But she is a teenager herself. I am only in my early twenties yet the heart I carry I feel as though I have wasted away six decades on this Middle-Earth.
But she is under my skin. Like an enchantress casting a spell. A spider weaving it's web.
It has all been so sudden. I fall deeper and deeper.
And I am the fly. Did you really think it would be that simple... To trust again. Did you really think the loud voices of opposition in your head would be silenced. Amidst the fun and frolicking. I feel as though armies amass against us though I know it is mostly probably just in my head. Is it? Though her father does not seem to care.
I think of the wretch I could not save my father from all those years ago. Pretty, resourceful. A noblewoman. She had lied, stolen and cheated her way to her fortune and landed title. She exploited my ignorance of what truly happened when my father was murdered. In my grief, I captured and tortured those who did not deserve it. She manipulated me. Made me do things that were against my moral code. What does my flower have in common I wonder, oh that is right. She is pretty, resourceful and has enough gold to hire sell-swords at a tender age. Also, she would be vexatious and manipulative.
Forgive me for finding that so haunting. I do not think her capable of murder, but the similarities in behaviour were too strong. She has a dark sense of humour I think and that is all. I wronged her with that assumption. But I ask is this how my father felt. Am I actually to become him? The circumstances are different but similar. I could not save him from her. I so much very wish that I could. I had moved on past these matters untill my flower came into my life. Dragging it all up. Yet I love her. I truly do. I want to believe her words. She said she would rather die than betray my trust because she loved me. I almost believe them.
There have been lighter moments to these days, believe it or not. I do not know what I would do without these lighter moments I laughed and joked more than once, I entertained a girl I have become fond of platonically with impressions of her father. I recounted tales of adventures. I imitated a mighty steed and ran all the way home with my flower upon my shoulders. I bumped into a crazed Dwarf. Also rediscovered an old friend, a mutual acquaintance of said crazed Dwarf. That Dwarf was and is a fool. But he sure does make for some funny stories.
I wait to make progress on a contract but the bald man I seek was nowhere to be found. I have stayed away from town after working so hard for weeks. Only to receive an omen in the form of the storm. A particularly brooding hired blade known not to be too fond of the idea of me courting his employer skulking around the courtyard of the tavern. Wasn't it just yesterday I was talking about weathering it? Fate has a sense of humour.
Will she tell me all that she saw in the letter? Or is she saving Knowledge with which to grievously wound me. She does like to catch me off guard. It would be a fitting name for that knife she carries at her belt.
I look out over her sleeping form, delicate. The Lavender won out over the Dagger, I have to ride the turbulent waves. So I say this. Do not hurt me. Please do not hurt me. I cannot suffer one more loss or one more betrayal. The answer ultimately I suppose is no, I can not kill you. If you should think to betray me. I will hand you the Dagger myself.
