((sloppily penned in Lumi-kieli))
I kissed her.
Only just barely. I do not know why I did. I should not have. It is like making a promise I cannot keep. I knew it was a mistake even as I was doing it. I fled afterwards. I had kissed him too, or he had kissed me; maybe that is why it was in my thoughts? No, that is too simple, too cowardly an explanation.
What a day it was. When I saw Rue was in the inn I thought that it might be a tense night. She has not spoken to me since the day Miss Ellie convinced her to relent on getting Butterbur to ban Suojelija. And I have not spoken to her either; I let Mister Butterbur serve her. It is not because she was mean to me; that is easily forgiven. It is that she took, and takes, delight in being mean to me for no cause, and continues to take delight in anything that goes wrong for me. There is nothing to forgive if she is still the sort of spirit that takes pleasure in the hurts of one who has done her no wrong. There is no redemption for that. Suojelija is now allowed in only if Mister Bob inspects her for fleas every day, which she hates and does not understand, and only until the next time someone complains, after which she will be banned forever, and I cannot prepare her for that. I know something more must come of Rue some time, and I thought it might be yesternight. But she left without a word or even a glance at me.
But how very much else happened. I also saw Miss Eira and she and I talked about the drowned kingdom and things that I will not write even here in my diary. Though she wrote some in a letter before she left, so perhaps I should not be so reluctant. And her words were in the etelä-kieli, while mine are in the Lumi-kieli which few if any in the southlands can read. Even so, I have secrets to keep and I will not commit them to these pages until I must. And as she says she will be departing again, I will not likely ever need to.
Instead I sat with Beri and she shared honey-cakes (almost as good as that pastry Mister Byrge had let me try once) and spoke of celebrating her birthday; and I told her how Mister Godwin had been away for almost a whole moon, and I had started to wonder if he would ever come back. I did not say aloud that I wondered if he was staying away because he was no longer interested in wooing me, but did not want to say so. Neither did I say aloud how many times I found myself thinking about how things would be if she had not, on the night we met, been put off by my age and given up her chance to walk with me. How, for every moment I sat and wished for the sight of Godwin returned, there was also a moment I guiltily thought how if he did not, I might be able to woo with her.
I think if she had started to woo me that night when we first met, when Miss Faye called her Miss Raspberry, I would be in the same position I am now, except reversed. She and I would be wooing, and I would be asking her difficult questions about whether we really fit together, and I would be asking the same of myself; and then I would see him and just be giddy. It is easy to have a crush on someone you cannot have; you do not have to ask those difficult questions, so all you have left is infatuation which is simple and powerful. I know this, but it does not stop that I keep thinking about her. And also about him. And during the last moon when I have seen him not at all and her very little, my loneliness and longing has been all mixed up for both of them. Waiting And Hoping is about both of them in equal measure, and I think I have now admitted this to both of them (or I would have, if I had had the courage to sing it in front of either of them).
And then just when I had finally found the courage to say that he had been gone, and I did not know if he would be back, he came back. I was caught in such a storm of feelings. Such relief and happiness to see him again, and to hear from him that he would not be gone so long again. And regret that I had been even thinking about how, if he was really gone, then I could ask if she would woo. Fear even that I had somehow caused him to be gone, or that my speaking at last of his absence had caused him to return just then. And of course surprise and soon enough pain as I walked into the pillar again, hard enough this time to raise a livid bruise. I am always clumsy, but I rarely leave a mark, like I did this time. It seems portentous.
He stayed a while, long enough to let me cook for him (the fish and chips I have learned how to make, but I did not get to ask him how he liked them), but not that long, as the company he had travelled with had not yet unloaded everything from their wagons (I suppose he had rushed to see me even before he had recovered his possessions), and he needed to go claim them once they had. Before he left, though, we spoke in private in the kitchen. And I told him that I did still want to be wooing with him -- and I do, I truly do -- but that I had also been wishing sometimes I could be wooing with her, too. I even told him that in Lumi-mâ sometimes a person might woo two at once. Wooing is testing; it is to see if you might belong together, so if you woo two, you are simply testing two at once and you can choose between them fairly. But the Bree-väki do not do this. And I knew this when I agreed to woo with him, so I must fulfill the implicit promise and live by the Bree-väki custom. I will not be unfaithful; I do not break my promises, even those never spoken aloud.
Why then did I kiss her? I cannot allow myself to do that. It was not a promise, nor breaking of a promise, but it was dangerously close and I must be sure not to slip like that again. It is not fair to her. And anyway I am still not sure that she even wishes for it. I think she does, but then I still do not understand why she turned me away after finding I have seen only twenty summers. And I still am not sure when the words of the etelä-kieli do not mean what I think they mean. I may not understand anything of her feelings. She may only wish to be a friend (and I very much hope that whatever else, we can be friends).
And if this was not enough to make a night over-filled, Mister Dem revealed that Beri is ihonvaihtaja. I think she thought this might be the most important moment of the night. And it certainly is important but I do not think it is as important to me as she thought. Perhaps my fear at the thought of the susi-väki, and the way I once reacted with caution at hearing tales (or just jokes) that Valtorn was ihonvaihtaja, made them think I would recoil. I can understand that. But they do not know the Lumi-väki legends about the ihonvaihtaja. And I know she is not like the susi-väki.
At least I think I do. I said to her that, if the skin changes, that does not mean the soul changes; a good person stays good in another shape, and one who changes for evil intent only reveals the evil that was there all along. But thinking back on that, I am perhaps yet again a fool. For all I know, if she really can change, when she does, she becomes a different person. She and Mister Dem both said not, but I have been a fool before on other matters by thinking things were more simple than they are. Anyway, I do not think it matters.
We walked home together. It was only for a few moments since it was already time I had to go, as did she. We spoke of how we needed to have more time to talk, not in the inn when I am working, and maybe that climb of the hill we were going to do should happen after all. And we spoke of how her being ihonvaihtaja was not frightening to me. (Or rather, that it is frightening, but not as much as she might think.) But there were so many more things I did not say. I did not admit that I wished she could also woo me, or speak of how I would not be faithless to Mister Godwin, or how the song (which she has not heard, no one has) was also for her, or how much I thought about her, or hoped to have that time to walk with her, or wondered why she turned me away that first night and whether she still would, or ask why she did, or admit how much that hurt. I did not even ask her to speak to Suojelija for me about the flea inspection. If I had said any of it, I might not have been able to stop until I had said all of it, and not only would that have meant I was awake until late at night, it is probable I would have done or said something even more foolish than kissing her.
But maybe it was from all the things I could not say, that I instead took that very brief, barely touching, kiss. I wonder what that said to her. What words were said by that kiss in her ears, on her lips?
Now when I see Mister Godwin I must admit to having done it. I hope he will not be too angry. He has a right to be. If he told me that while he was away he had kissed someone, I would be a little angry, and I do not even have the sense of how wooing works that Bree-väki have, so he would likely be more so. I hope he will forgive me. He is a good man, and I am lucky to have him wooing me.
Reminders:
start looking for materials for soap and candle making; I have saved almost enough
talk to Eirduith about where things are kept in the storage rooms
more cooking lessons with Egfor; I think Ellie is avoiding me so I will not get some from her also
finish making beads from the tusk Dem gave me; only a moon until I can gather dye-berries
remind Godwin I still need to give away that gold penny, and get Dalish red
find the courage to sing the song for both of them (it is only fair)
