I think I may need to check my calendar again. It is supposed to be spring, is it not? The sky is overcast and grey today, and the air is chilled and damp. I speak in jest, though, for the grass is already shot through with green here and there, and I saw the first yellow wink of the daffodils along the fence yesterday. I do long for a bright, warm day, filled with sunshine and birdsong, however. I think it would do my heart good.
I have written out my list of supplies needed for the stables, and it is extensive! Strange to realize that this is only my second spring in Hookworth. Will I have a fifth, a tenth, a twentieth year here? I must make a trip into Bree and then on to Adso's to order the things I cannot find in town. Hopefully, the weather will agree to be agreeable so I'm not walking in rain and mud!
I noticed quite a bit of activity across the lake over the past few days, and I do believe Firithain has taken the empty cottage there, after all. I saw a wagon parked outside and things being unloaded, so it seems he has made good on his intention to stay. I have mixed feelings about his presence, though for the most part, I find it a great comfort. He is gentle and kind, attentive and thoughtful. And for that, I would take refuge in his friendship. But there is still the unspoken longing in his eyes, and the last thing I wish is to torment a respectable man. And I am lonely, I will not deny it. There was no lack of anything with my late husband; quite the opposite, there was an overabundance of love and affection. Yet we could never get enough of it, of each other. To have it snatched away so suddenly, so harshly...my heart and soul are not the only things feeling his absence. I sought a tiny measure of comfort in a hug from Firithain a few days ago. He obliged in his generous way, and there was nothing untoward in his embrace. It was merely gentle and comforting. Yet I felt a terrible conflict within me. A keen wish to let myself be comforted, but at the same time, a wrenching realization that the arms and the clothes and the smell and the body were not my husband's. And never would be.
No one will ever be him. No one ever can be him. And he is still all I want. Which leaves me...what? Pining after a shadow? Wasting away after memories? Is Time the only thing that stands in the way of me being able to hold a hand or be held or kiss someone's lips and not feel a screaming agony for my late husband? To not sense dark, clawed fingers pointing at me, accusing and bewildering me? Dear mercy, I hope so. I have, after all, come at least a little way from the weepy-eyed waif that I was, wishing only to die and chase after his spirit in whatever shadowy realm lay beyond this one. A few steps are still a few steps, right? Yes, I want the pain and the sadness to end. Right this minute. But I cannot make it happen. I cannot see past the end of it. I cannot imagine being happy again. Yet I must trust in what I cannot see; the truth that there is something beyond my grief. There is more life to be lived. How I will get there, I don't know. I am walking in the dark still, as if by a solitary candle. Just enough light for the next step, but not enough to cast away the darkness and let me see where I am going. So, for today...take another step, Brynleigh.
Now then. Away from these thoughts.
The evenings in the Pony have become somewhat pleasant again, and for that, I am thankful. I saw Aeruthuil again recently, and we retired away from the common room to speak. He observed that it was likely only the second or third time we'd talked at length, just the two of us. I thought I knew him, at least a little bit, from our past interactions. But now, I don't think I ever did, really. I always thought him very closed-off and soft-spoken, but he was not so this time. He was direct and open, flattering and enigmatic. I have not seen him since, but that is no surprise. I learned from Tothrandir that these men can never be counted upon to be in one place for long.
I have seen Owena, Audea, and a woman in a fancy hat named Savela several times as well. Owena is always her cheerful, lovely self, though she must be working herself nearly to death, as I only see her very late at night, poor creature. Yet she always has a bright smile and seems bursting with friendliness, so...she must be doing all right for herself! Audea is quiet and charming, as always. She seems such a shy thing, but so sweet. I have not had much chance to speak with Savela, but what little conversation passed between us was enjoyable. She strikes me as a sharp and witty woman.
Ah, there is also a new face! A very pleasant gentleman from Gondor, named Aeroden. A scholar and tutor it seems, who travels wherever he feels he is needed, and teaches more for the sake of imparting education than for piling up coin, which speaks greatly of his integrity. Our words so far have been brief, but I was struck by the gentleness of his demeanor. And Béma knows, we need as much gentleness in this world as we can get.
Oh! Also, before I forget...the woman, Marney, who sold me the wooden chest, came to visit the Sizzling Turtle a few days ago. I was surprised but glad to see her again, and she was enjoyable company. Not overly talkative, which I appreciated, as I have been feeling rather quiet lately myself, though she heartily devoured a plate of food from the kitchen! I trust that speaks well of the cooking, no? Harthator paid a visit, too, which was a nice surprise. And another man was there - Hamadryt, who I vaguely recalled meeting some time ago. I found him very pleasant and engaging, though I think his pipe-smoke was not appreciated by Firithain!
And I have written too much and taken too much time. I would rather curl up under some blankets and ruminate on my gloomy thoughts, but I cannot. Off to the stables I go.
