This has been a very strange time for me. I have spent many weeks doing naught but making dresses for one person or another and the days since I finally returned to town have been odd to say the least.
To begin with, I was approached by Inzilberth, whom I have met previously. She is a nice woman in my experience, but I must admit that my meeting with her on this occasion was far from pleasant. A friend of hers, it seems, has somehow become of interest to Drevorin, causing Inzilberth to become worried for her safety. To that end, she came to me for advice on the man, having been informed by others that I know him well.
It was a conversation that I could have done without. I have tried so hard to move on from him, to put him and that part of my life behind me. I had succeeded, or so I thought, but I find it something less than a success when people come to talk to me about it specifically. Can I not just be left in peace without these reminders of a much more painful time? I told her what I could, gave her all the warnings she could hear, and then asked her not to speak to me of him again. Likewise, I have asked those who sent her to me the same thing for I have no desire to be pulled back into that spiral of madness!
That aside, I have yet again been accosted by that arrogant elf. For a creature who looks down upon my gender so harshly, he seems to be all too willing to place himself in my company whether I would wish it or not. Despicable thing!
There was also a rather uncomfortable conversation with Baradar and Blodwynn which I stayed out of, but heard all too clearly for they decided to have it whilst sitting next to me. I would have simply walked away and allowed them privacy, but I feel that she needed me to remain for moral support or else she would have waited until they were alone.
On top of that, there have been further talks with Seaver. I enjoy his company. He is a kind and caring man. However, the topic always somehow works its way back to Siward and I find that so difficult to deal with even now. He speaks wistfuly of how noble and proud, strong and courageous his father was, of how there was still some good in the man and the possibility of redemption. All I can see at those times is how the man came after me again and again, how I lay broken and bleeding on the floor whilst he stood above me with his sword raised whilst death danced in his cold blue eyes. If Seaver is right, then my will to live robbed a man of his chance to change and that only adds to the tragedy that I wrought and the guilt I must now carry.
There has been an unexpected cause to smile amidst all this turmoil, though. A man named Haldrid. He came to sit with me one night and made for surprisingly pleasant company. We have spoken a good few times since and I even allowed him to accompany me to Far Chetwood one evening when I took Arugru for a walk. That in itself is strange for never have I let anyone come with me on my occasional visits to that place - no one but Wolf, who shares the same memories as I of that woodland.
Even more strange is that I have found myself trusting this man, although I do not yet know him well. I have admitted to him details of my life that less than a handful of others are aware of. Why would I do this - I who will not even admit what I do for a living to people I have only just met? I must wonder if this all a great mistake, if I am being too rash and careless. I must wonder why I speak so openly to him, what it is that makes me feel that I can do so.
I must also wonder why he gave me this flower. It is small, it is white, it is pretty and has a pleasant fragrance, but what is its purpose? What is the meaning behind such a gesture and what am I supposed to do with it? Blodwynn would know, or Flannery, but they are not here this eve. I shall keep it then, pressed between the pages of this book that I might show them when next we meet and enquire as to its significance.
