Dear Diary,
Once again, I find it necessary to turn to you. For, to my shock and consternation, he has shown up again. Twice! He did write a letter, but I burned it after scanning it's contents. At his claim of being in Rivendell, I had thought myself safe from any encounters for at least until after the ball. How he made the journey there and back again in such a short time is beyond my comprehension. Unless he never went there and it is yet another of his infinite lies.
I was busy both times I heard the all-too familiar voice behind me, the first time speaking to people, the second listening to the #### #### who were playing at the inn. Keeping my face as neutral as possible I turned around and there he was, as large as life though perhaps not quite so cocky as usual. Both times, I was immediately torn inside; one part of me wanted to fly at him, rage and scream, tearing at his eyes and skin until my anger was spent, then fall into his arms to cry and hold him. Another part of me merely wished to flee the scene, never to see him again. Yet another part of me was plotting his demise. His death would perhaps bring about some satisfaction and hopefully accomplish a permanent inner peace. Though to think of this world empty of his presence would be to drain the colours from the world, leaving all grey.
I was grateful for the presence of others close by, providing some diversion as I struggled to bring my thoughts and feelings to heel. Perhaps he will think I am with one of them now and leave me in peace. As he spoke, I recalled the words of my mentor, their wisdom interceding; I could hear her voice as vividly as in the days when I was her pupil, speaking so clearly now in my mind: Love is a trap. A weakness. We must not fall prey to it's seductions. It brings a mist to our minds that we can ill afford to suffer. Divided inside, we cannot concentrate on that which is truly important. We must stand alone or become the cause of our own destruction. I finally understand now what she meant. I have no time for this conflict within. I have a job to do and can ill afford such distractions.
What with the voice in my head and the ones in my ears, I found myself unable to react adequately to the situation. My mind filled with the very haze my mentor warned me of. I was so divided within myself that I could barely concentrate on his words; falling into a daze, I bit my lip to keep my focus, listening as he asked me for a second chance. He wanted to speak somewhere private. He had refused that courtesy to me, so I was disinclined to accede to his wishes. Anything he has to say he can say in public and on record. And after all he said and did before, how can I ever trust him again? Who is to say what happened once, will not happen again? Am I being a fool? He has already made a fool of me once, should I chance that again? No, I cannot risk it. The decision was made easier by the presence of some girl demanding his attention. He will soon find another, I have no doubt of that. Finally, he seemed to accept my decision and walked off, though not before making some comments that cut me to the quick. Like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, I fled the scene, though outwardly I truly hope I seemed as usual and that none of my inner conflict was visible.
In the hallway I ran into one of the few people in this world who know me best. Though even he knows not my whole story. One of his endearing qualities is that he never asks much. As much as I tried to keep my emotions in check, an unwanted tear slid down my cheek. He merely offered to escort me outside for some fresh air, where a succession of people passed. All I wished for was that they would all go away and leave me alone. I was offered the key to his house, which I accepted gratefully. The Pony is too populated for my state of mind right now and my own townhouse is filled with decorators and the like. It's not the first time I've stayed at his house. After that trouble with the Southerner, it was where I hid. He himself is never there, or as good as never, so my privacy is guaranteed.
My carefully built front threatens to come crashing about my ears and all due to the folly of my heart. My mentor would be so disappointed in me. I could kill him, something he himself offered to let me do, but for that he has not truly harmed anyone that I know of. Yes, he broke my heart and my trust, but I allowed him to get so close that he could. He has not forced himself on anyone nor hurt nor killed for pleasure that I am aware of. Therefore, my honour will not allow me to harm him and, as always, I cannot allow my personal feelings (oh irony!) to rule me. #### thinks it would give me satisfaction, but still, I am happy knowing he is alive out there. I must persevere and seem as I was before. This I am used to. I will use the pain I have caused myself as a lesson and carry on.
