Two nights hence from receiving the letter, Seaver had much time to dwell. She had more than likely fled the Bree-lands by now, he dared not. He had sat in his study, and long deliberated. If he could not confess of his love verbally he would do so in the written form. He had decided, it would be one of the hardest things he has ever had to write... She had spirited the children away, fearing for their safety. How it made him ill, the thought that she would think that of him. He recalled the words that had driven her away. Up until that point she had always kept complete faith with him in terms of the confessions of his dark deeds.
"I'm an excellent liar, I'm a murderer. Nothing more, nothing less." He had uttered, she had argued with him.
Neyaa had pushed him. "You are a flaxen haired boy, whom I watched from afar" She pushes him again "Still your tongue". Shoving him again. "A boy born into a lie. A boy who was shown things a boy should never have seen.
"That boy is dead. He's been dead for a long time." Came the reply as he had shoved her in return, the pair tussling in the middle of the house. Their voices gradually growing louder though they were not shouting yet. "No he is not dead, for I have seen him, I have felt him." Came the reply. 'Do you know I have also lied to Taala at one time? She would disown me if she knew. Do you know that I also conspired to kill the lover of another of my truest friends, I stood there. Right in front of her. And I smiled!' He paused, 'I smiled as I told her that I no longer had any intent to harm her man. She believed me. I looked her -straight- in the eyes.'
He of course referred to his one-time friendship with Ilaru which had abruptly come to an end upon her discovery that he'd planned to murder her betrothed. A complicated tale the man had no time to elaborate on even if he had wanted to. In the heat of the moment then he raised his voice
'I killed my best friend, I stabbed her repeatedly, again, and again. She was innocent. 'Do you think she will forgive me?.' Referring to his best friend of one time Mabel, whom he had falsely thought to have betrayed his confidences. He had confessed this secret before and yet he repeated it. How could anyone keep faith with him knowing this? He did not know. Neyaa had wiped her eyes then but the tears kept coming "No, I do not".
It was in that moment then, that he had come to the startling realisation, ceasing his outburst. That Aanya, Neyaa's nursemaid, her son Samuel and Neyaa's own boy Branston were sleeping within the next room. The door was shut of course. They had heard nothing, they were only just coming to when his inevitable cursing began. They had heard it, they had heard it all. He thought by contrast. Panic sweeping over him. Neyaa for her part attempted to calm him, it would not be any use for he swiftly departed the house not long after, holing himself up in his own. He did not know what to expect, bar the visit to Calilla he had been preparing himself for the Watch which had resulted in the unsheathing of his Seax following the knock upon his door.
It hurt him, it hurt him deeply. The mere suggestion that he could possibly hurt not only Hardoleth's son and heir but cut her down too. Simply in the act of self preservation. Neyaa herself had worked up into a panic of her own. There were no lengths the woman would not go to in order to protect her son. He had spooked her. The man had flashbacks to the days he had lived with his little brother, Leofric. His daughter, Rowena. How he and Erinwyn had argued, raging at one another. The subject his own demons past and present. He needed to get out of there in that moment. Oh gods, the children. The children he had written. Was it in their best interests for him to let Neyaa go? It is too late anyway, he thought. She's made the decision for you. You have truly scared her away this time.
Yet the words of Calilla Yishai still swirled within his mind, "Perhaps now love is the right love, the final lesson in your heart-journey. You cannot know for sure this day, but the future will tell, if you let it."
He let out a groan of frustration as he wielded his pen, I have to do this, he thought, I must. Or forever regret it...
He slowly committed his pen to parchment:
Neyaa, you say you write not to cause me further anguish yet I am afraid your words wound me despite.
I do not know the truth of the matter is I have to have faith but if you think for a moment I would harm her, Samuel... or Branston...
I am done, I am done running. I will accept the consequences as they fall. I will not flee to Gondor.
I am also done hiding from the truth. So here is the plain and simple truth. Written down so I cannot garble my words, recoil from them or shout at you in substitute. What you have felt, I have felt it too. From the time you fled my quarters and the days when Ayla also shared my bed most like. For I felt the pang of rejection like a solid blow to my gut. Though I could not put my finger on why at the time. I reasoned to myself that it was simply because you were a dear friend and thought that we had spoiled what we had. Throughout the journey I took in the Lone Lands it continued to bother me. Later, I was to grow closer to you and my fears led me to fly from these lands rather than risk the connection deepening on my part proved too strong as soon as there was reason to and I fled as a coward flees when I should have stood my ground. I didn't, I hoped the notions in my head would simply banish themselves and I'll admit I thought for a time it had worked. Except that it didn't. Since the first occasion I knocked upon your door following my long absence I intended to tell you the real reason for my dissappearance. Words failed me then as they have failed me since with regards to the truth as it stands. But I will speak frankly to you now.
You must be confused, the truth is in the simplicity of our friendship and the warm nights spent in one another's beds I have found something within me I have struggled to come to grips with deep down. Whatever the bravado I have shown Eroforth, and Taala. And continue to do so. It seems I am not immune to attachment after all. The moment you confessed your love to me I was in panic. But it was no chance that night I stumbled upon the farm, my feet led me despite. What I had intended to say was lost in the emotion and the desperation of the moment of the birthing. And then it was all too easy to slip back into old comforts. Never daring to raise the ire of the Oliphaunt which lingers in the room. To avoid difficult subjects. For I feared where the road may take me. And so I blinked, allowing the moment to pass.
I have dwelled much upon matters in our parting from one another in between visits. I have given much thought to your confession. I know that you for your part have demanded nothing of me. You asked for nothing. And yet I question how long we could continue the charade we engaged in. The pain it would inevitably bring to one or both of us. I have never wanted to lose your friendship. I value it dearly more than anything else so I have shied away. My only options being either to be bold enough to tell you I have felt it too or to sever the cords which bind us in perpetuity and run away as I have afeared of what might come of it.. You can see why neither of these options found appeal with me.
Perhaps it explains some of my behaviour? I have not had the heart to turn you away nor have I truly wanted to. Yet the fear that has gripped me within my breast has been so overwhelmingly strong. I have felt as though torn between two conflicting narratives pulling me one way or another. It is as though the halves of my heart both desired two differing outcomes. I write only to aid in your comprehension of what has transpired. I have tried more than once to speak of these matters. I have failed utterly. I should not have come to your home that night. It was the wrong time and the wrong place for it and I was a fool to think that I could articulate what ails me. Battling my inner demons or no. Foolish as it may have been I set out from my home that night with the intent to confront the spinners come what may. You are right that a man cannot spend his days forever afraid to choose a road for if you do not choose a path one will be woven for you whether you like it or not. I see that now. Yet boldness of intent is all well and good. As I crossed over the threshold I felt the whispers of doubt. As we sat and talked I found myself lulled into the comfort of safety and small-talk. There was no need to challenge the beast that lurked between us in my mind. But by the time I had even found a slither of my courage with which to speak. I don't know, I am not even sure what happened. I froze again, when you asked me to leave. By the doorhandle. And rather than the words which I intended to spill forth.
Well let's just say that you are right to pity me for it is pitiful the reading of it, in the conflict of it. Of my mind, you learned who I truly am. For it is not just me or you that the torments of my mind will affect. In the heat of it I lost my sense. I should have bid you goodnight and stepped through the door with the promise of further words spoken in quieter moments. Yet in that moment. In my sheer frustration and inability to express myself I lashed out and now I have ruined everything between us. I did my utmost in that moment to try and drive you away. For though you insist that you have seen the boy I once was and felt him. He will be forever tainted by the sins of the past. Broken in whole or in part by what he has done. There is no river or ocean that can cleanse these bloodied hands. I close my eyes and I can still see the hand which quivers, dripping with it. No amount of weeping or begging her my forgiveness as she lay cold would change the reality of what I had done. I will live with it until the threads of my life are finally cut.
The children, and Aanya in the next room to hear all of it. Every syllable if they were awake. Mayhaps you have realised the monster that I truly am. If they heard everything, if this is to be my fate and you have spirited yourself away to prevent further harm to you all than my midnight rantings then so be it. I would rather fall upon my own blade than harm a single hair upon your heads. Do you truly think I would kill children? Is that what you think of me. If the game is up, then it is truly up. I'll make my peace with it.
I am sorry for having caused you so much pain. Truly.
The boy that you loved over yonder is gone, trapped within a web of deception and blood. What remains will always hold onto those memories, of the farm. Of what might have been. All those years ago. Before he awoke among a field of corpses. I will treasure them no matter what for I have precious little else but woe and misery thereafter. I will try to remember the nights fondly, free of the turmoil. For there were such nights among them.
If you fear me that much, well. I do not know.
But I'm not going to run anymore. I have said all that I can say and fit upon the parchment.
Ferthu Neyaa Hal.
