Found:
Rowan has left for the north now. Fornost. When he asked that I remain behind, that I not follow or try to find him, I agreed without argument. There is much that I know of such places, much that I have learned that could prove useful to him and his companion and yet... in my current state, I also know that my presence would do little good. I cannot run, jump, scale walls or climb as I once could and the weather is not yet warm enough to allow for even a modicum of the nimble swiftness I once possessed. If I were there, I could help in some ways and yet hinder in those that matter the most. Any worry he may have, any fear he may feel, would lay him low far faster than a mere wound. So, here I remain, for my own safety yes, but mostly for his. The notion of having something to return to will do him more good in the long-term than my expertise would.
Confidence. Hope. Warm memories and something to look forward to. These things are key to survival.
For that reason, there is much that went unsaid. Things that I wish I could have said, things that I wish he knew. Perhaps he already does. The man, though sometimes oblivious and pig-headed, can also be terrifyingly astute.
I will worry. He knows this. I will fear for his loss as he, were our roles reversed, would fear for mine. But that is normal, is it not? That is what one does when one's loved ones are off in dangerous places. Even were that not so, his last foray into that area did not end well for him. Of course, I fear that the result may be similar this time too.
Matters are different now though, aren't they? He is no longer alone, no longer plagued by that which felled him before, or so I wish to believe. The silly girl is long gone. He knows that I am safe and well. He has finally begun to forgive himself for the past, I think. Or, at least, move on from it. But is that enough? Is the promise of a bright and happy future sufficient to help him overcome that hag? If, indeed, it is her come back to cause more havoc. Am I? I don't know, but that doubt is mine and mine alone, best kept from his heart, if at all possible, until after this is done.
Here and now, he needs my faith in him and his abilities. Here and now, he needs support, not skepticism. He may not know it, he may not even agree were I to voice such a sentiment, but I know that such seemingly small things can make a big difference.
I gave him what insights I could and made certain that his departure was a good one. It's not much, but it will have to be enough. Unless he calls for me - which is highly unlikely given my physical limitations, his pride and protective nature - then here I shall remain, waiting for news or his return. Sooner rather than later, I hope.
He does as he feels he must, as do I.
