It is strange how full the days can be for a woman of little significance who hasn't left her own village for some time. I hardly know where to begin, but I have much to record.
As far as I know, the madman has not been caught,and is still loose somewhere in the wild. This has led to several events and occurrences, the first of which is a very odd letter.
It was handed to me by one of the young men who guard the village gate a few days ago. There was no name, and no signature, and he could not say who had given it to him, though he sensed it was a woman, hooded and cloaked. The writer of this letter claims to feel responsible for the actions of this criminal, "Wolfshead", by having had a chance to stop him and not taking it. I do not know what is meant by this, and I have little idea of who the author is. But they expressed a personal concern for my safety, so I must conclude that this person knows me on some level beyond my name alone. I think I would rather not guess blindly, since they wish to remain anonymous. I will allow them that privacy, and hope that one day, they might volunteer to reveal themselves.
I visited Sareva last night, to give her my dress that was torn by this same, wicked man, so that she could repair it. She is another woman affected, as she is now fearful to leave her house unaccompanied. I have entreated Aeruthuil to keep her safe, and I know he will, and that is a great comfort. I knew that Sareva had something to give me, as she had mentioned it the last time we met. I was anxious that it might be something to do with my late husband, and in a way, I was right. It is a blanket that she created with her own hands, and shows the most beautiful scene of green hills, flowing water, and white blossoms that remind me of the beloved simbelmynë flowers of home. But it also brought to mind other memories. The small stone bridge near Bywater in the Shire, and the green hills on other side, with the water flowing beneath, where we pledged our wedding vows. And the clear, blue waters of the lake at Nen Harn, with the island rising up, the lush grass dotted with wildflowers. Of course, there was no way for Sareva to know of these memories. But her sweet gift will help keep them preserved in my heart.
Another letter has arrived from Firithain. I am relieved once again that he is safe, at least at the time he sends each one. I smiled to read his tender words, and felt sad that he worries so for me. But that is his nature, to be caring and protective, and I will not begrudge him that. He should be home by now, so I will begin composing a reply. Let us hope that it will not arrive in the Mark too late to be delivered to him, as I know not how long he will linger there with his ailing father.
I feel as though I'm forgetting something that I wanted to say. My mind is simply too full anymore. I think a holiday may be in order. I find myself tired and unfocused, forgetting things more than I should. There have been so many new faces in Hookworth, and old friends returning out of the blue. And while each one is a joy in its own way, I am reminded of how much I am not a woman who entertains much company with ease. I much prefer the quiet of one friend at a time, so I can give them my full focus and attention. Perhaps I will end up being the odd, solitary old widow who peeks out her window and only keeps the company of dogs and cats!
Perhaps I may coincide a small trip away with... It is just a week from now that it would have been my first anniversary of being married. I do not expect I will wish to be around people on that day. I think I might prefer to spend that day alone somewhere. Somewhere I can feel close to him.
...when I hesitate to write about my feelings...should that be a warning to me?
Aeroden has become an unexpectedly dear companion. I find myself musing endlessly on why this is. And whether it is proper. Though nothing has taken place that anyone could ever call otherwise. It is my heart and my mind that accuse me, not my actions. By the same token, I demand to know why I feel guilt when I have no reason to feel guilty. I am not married any longer. My heart rebels against these words, yet to give in is to keep myself in a prison of my own making! If I do not wish to be a grey-faced and grim widow, a young woman of twenty-four years old who condemns herself to a life behind a veil of grief and fidelity, then I must learn to face down these thoughts and argue with them. I must find the secret to loving my darling departed...as I will love him forever, and I don’t know if I could ever love another as I loved him...and finding a way to live again. I still cannot think on him for more than a few seconds without feeling the black hole gaping before me, ready to suck me down and swallow me whole, and leave me screaming his name into a void where no one exists but myself, and my screams are nothing but impotent agony...
...I need a moment…
The truth is that Aeroden's friendship has become precious to me. There is a peace and comfort in his presence that I find nowhere else. There is no expectation to be anything but what I am. I need not entertain him. I need not think of polite things to say and do. I can be silent, or I can talk. I can smile, or I can weep. I can be strong, or I can fall apart. There is no judgment, no disapproval, no pressure. Only acceptance and comfort and a quiet, steady strength that I find myself seeking like a port in a storm. I ask myself, does he really see the broken creature that I am? Does he see that I may very well be hopelessly damaged and shattered and beyond help?
Do you see this when you look at me, Aeroden?
I fear that you don’t.
