I had been so close to giving up. I had been so close to losing faith, to losing hope. I had sat there upon that bench for what seemed like time interminable, day after day passing whilst I held vigil.
I waited for news. For so long I waited and nothing came. I asked around the inn. I sat in silence whilst those around overlooked my presence and talked amongst themselves as if they were in complete privacy. I watched and I waited for anything, any word, any sign. I hoped and dreamed, come rain or shine, that soon I would have answers if only I sat there for long enough.
I thought it a dream at first. A man, so familiar but garbed so strangely. How often have I seen a figure that resembled one I once knew only for it to be a total stranger? But this one stopped nearby. He kept his face concealed, but when he spoke I knew. My answers had finally arrived, but not as I had expected. This was not a chance word over-heard but the man himself, the one for whom I have waited these past months.
We walked to the ruins above the tavern in order to speak for his presence in this town endangers him but he came here nevertheless. He came to find me. He had missed our talks, he said, he had missed my presence and when he lay his hand against my cheek I felt... so many things. The feelings I had for him, the ones I had set aside so long ago, came rushing back to remind me of just how much he meant to me, and just how much he means. Tender words and allusive looks give the impression that perhaps he does reciprocate after all. One more task, he said, one more task...
But there will always be one more task, whether it be for others or his desire to protect me. The cycle of hatred within Bree is never-ending; her river of blood runs deep. Cyfier will continue to perform one more task and then one more until he is consumed. His peaceful dream will forever remain within his reach but never will he grasp it, I fear.
Before he left, he promised to seek me out again. If this is to become a regular occurance, then we must find a place more fitting in which to meet. I could never forgive myself if his desire to speak with me brought him to harm. I could never forgive my own selfishness if my wish to see him caused him pain.
All too soon, our time was over and it was only when he had departed from sight that my thoughts turned to Haldrid. I am not called upon to make a choice and I hope that I never will be for my regard for that man is almost as strong as my love for the other. I am torn between an impossible dream and a good but uncertain present.
Haldrid is good to me, that I cannot deny. He is warm and kind, gentle and understanding. He may not share my beliefs, but he listens and does not scoff. He offers saftey of a sort; an undefined "caring" that makes no demands - possibly because it is so confused as to its own nature. If I overlook the fact that he has proven to be indecisive in the past and that he has fled from me once before due to fear of feelings, then I can see the illusion of stability. It is comforting, but how much truth is in it?
