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*This letter was written several months ago, in Neyaa's usual impeccable handwriting, though it may not be the absolute truth, for she would hate for her friend to worry*
Once in awhile...I'll spot something of interest; perhaps a face, or a blur of movement from the corner of my eye. I'll glance at it, but not nearly long enough to fully understand truly what my eyes fall upon. By the time I glance a second time, something...has changed? Or it's not as it was upon the first reckoning.
I am home. I am back to the place I belong. I never felt at home when working with the Nobles and I knew it. But I tolerated it for the most part, still visiting my friends from the Dawn from time to time. But when I faced Lord Gerwolf and confronted him about his anger towards Hardoleth, I found where my heart truly lies. I am and always will be loyal to the Bloody Dawn, I know that now. I didn't realize how much I care about the Dawn until now.
I ask of you to only accept my love, I ask not that you love me. I ask of you to release the grab you have of my heart, I ask you not to embrace it. I ask of you to free me of your spell, I ask not that you shall bind me.
And so we are here, you and I, alone in the cold mountains. It is nice to just relax for a moment. Who would have thought you were the only I dared taking with me. I considered leaving a note for Neyaa.. but I could not chance that anyone else would find it, and at the end of the day, I need time to think.
The dream is always the same. I walk on a green field where the sun is dawning. I see people in the field, their faces are pale and faded, yet I recognize them all, they do not move, they stand in the field watching me, yet they have no eyes that I can see. The field is on fire, slowly burning its way to the people. I call out to them, I yell for them to run, yet they do not move. They watch me, I try to run to them, I run as fast as I can, but the field is endless, I cannot reach them.. Yet the more I run the clearer the faces get, I see them.. I see the people, I know them..
A sketch of Quineven, a girl of Gondor descent, with silvery eyes, and long dark hair of which she always toyed with when braided. A friend, from my days as a barmaiden at the Inn of the Prancing Pony, quiet and hard working. It was a surprise to see her at the door of House Thalanduin, but a welcome surprise it was.
Hello laddie. I do not know why I have opened you today, I just thought it was a long time since last we talked.. and by that I meant I ranted on paper about what I was thinking, while you just took it like the whore you are... Yet you take no coin for this.. A charitable whore perhaps?