I find that I have to hold myself back from picking up this journal and spilling all my thoughts, feeling, hopes, and wishes into its pages. And yet, why do I hesitate so? Why am I afraid of my own mind? My own thoughts?
I came home last evening to a house filled with flowers. No doubt picked from the fields by the thoughtful hand of Lainric and strewn all about the place. Even now, the memory makes me smile so foolishly! He had prepared a dinner for us, and I don't know that I've ever felt so incredibly happy as I did sitting there with him across from me, gracing me with his beautiful eyes and his warm smile. We talked more of... the future. Perhaps I fear that speaking aloud the things we said will somehow ruin things... childish, I know! This is what his... dear Béma, I can't even say the word! His love .. yes, write it down, Brynleigh... has done to me. Left me awkward and bashful and doubting myself and feeling utterly needful.
But even in the midst of such happiness, the reality of the world around us was made all too clear, for my darling was wounded and attempting to hide it from me. After we had eaten, he could hide it no longer, and thankfully he allowed me to help him, for he had been badly injured by a wild animal while hunting. I was glad, honored, and pleased to be of assistance to him. I think I would do anything for him at this point. Seeing the blood and the mortality of this man that I adore only drives home the need for both of us to ready ourselves for whatever may come. The rumors continue to grow in the south; rumors of treacheries and violence, and the ever-growing Shadow. I care not that Fate chose this moment to have me love Lainric. I will love him, come whatever.
Now, if I can only force myself to say it out loud...my own absurdity makes me laugh!
A letter has been sent to my father in Rohan, and now we must wait for its reply. Such a lovely suspense now overshadows my waking hours. I wouldn't trade it for anything.
