I look through the previous pages of this book and I cannot believe that it was really written by the same person, and such a short while ago. Has it really only been a week? It seems like a different life now. So many things have happened -
Father is - Father is gone! They have taken him, the Orcs have. We were ambushed. I cannot write these lines properly, it all feels so unreal.
All that is left is Andswaru and me, and the horses - Witimanu and Laðfóta, Apple and Pear. Everything else they have taken, horses and supplies, and the cart lies broken in the water - I don't think we can repair it.
No, that is not true. I have Father's sword, and his ring. Andswaru took it off the Orc he captured. I am wearing it on a string around my neck now, as proof that he is still alive and we will find him.
And I have this book. The Orcs did not find it, and I took it and all of Fathers's documents from the cart as soon as I was well enough to ride. I am glad for that, at least. There is a bit of money left as well, that I had hidden - but I am worried about that, for my healing does not come for free, surely.
We will search for him, Andswaru promises. But I am worried it is already too late. I am still hurt, and I cannot use a sword yet. I don't know how long it will take to learn. How long can we tarry? And even if we should find them, what can one Rider and a frightened girl do against a horde of very real fairy tale monsters?
I do not think Andswaru understands the choice I have to take, either. We cannot search forever. Mother - I must think of mother and my sisters as well, and the farm. They need us to return. They need the horses, and they need protection. I cannot forget them over the faint hope that Father still lives.
But oh, it is such a hard choice!
I think we will go and try to track them when my wound has healed. We must at least try, or I will never forgive myself.
But at some point, I will have to make that decision. And I dread that day, so much. I wish I could make him understand that.
I wish I had not run away that day. Then Andswaru would have been with the caravan. Maybe we could have done something. I wish I was not so useless and weak, and knew how to use a sword and fight.
But I must not think that way, because I know we could not have done anything. I just wish we could have.
I will learn how to wield a sword. Today, after I have written these lines and gotten dressed, Andswaru will start teaching me. I asked him that much. And I am not weak - I am a horse-woman of the Mark. If I can wrestle a balking horse, I can wield a sword. I will not give up hope, just yet.
I forgot to tell one thing in all this dreadfulness.
I am at the Elves! Yes, I did not only meet an Elf, but I am in their very home. It is really as if a fairy tale has come alive and I am now walking in it. Would you believe a daughter of the Mark, walking with Elves and fighting Orcs?
They are all very polite, but few speak even a few words I can understand. They have their own language, and it sounds quite strange to my ears. I cannot even begin to try and pronounce it.
But it is all very beautiful, and peaceful. Andswaru says they found us when I was unconscious, and brought me to their home to heal. I would quite like to stay, for all the world outside seems like a distant dream while you are in the vale.
But of course I cannot. I have responsibilities. I am no longer a little girl, riding on adventures with her father. Now I must take charge of what he cannot do any more - the horses, the farm at home, and - yes, I have responsibility even to Andswaru, for he was a member of our caravan. I can't let him risk his life if I am not willing to do the same.
It feels so strange. Everything has changed.
