I do not know why I delayed so much to return to Grimslade. It has been years since I returned to the lands of my people and yet I decided to remain in the Limlight Gorge as a volunteer. Perhaps I sought redemption or maybe I wanted to make a name for myself as a hero of my people, for too many a year I fought in foreign lands. But I had to return. If not to prove myself deserving and grown, then to fulfill the promise I made my faithful steed that I would bring him back to his homeland.
Even now the sight of my home town fills me with the memories of my youth. More than ten years have passed since I left, taking with me little more than my pride and my steed. How old must I be in the eyes of my own countrymen! How ragged my clothes must look and what a stranger they must see in me now! I recognized the sentinel by the gate, already old when I was a child. He greeted as if I only left for a ride last afternoon, calling me by my name and holding the reins of Fouplay with the familiarity of a kinsman.
As the night felt, I headed to my father's house, walking slowly. Fouplay followed me without the need for me to pull his reins. I had no hurry. I wanted to breath the wind of my town. How everything is changed and yet the same! Children I knew are now grown and the streets are filled with boys and girls unborn when I lived there. Maidens I once admired are now mothers. Aside from the Sentinel, few take notice of me.
When I reached my father's house, I stood for a minute, taking the view. Were the doors always this old? And the trees by the yard so green? I smelled a stew being made and looked for signs of my brother's horse. Before I could ring the bell, the door opened and a pair of dark green eyes looked at me, smiling.
How ironic that the first one of the house to see me was Hilda. She told me she knew I was coming, even though I sent no word ahead of me. My ancestors! She still looks the same as I remember! The same hair, the same fire within the eyes! The same smell of green leaves and sunlight.
As she led me inside, my mother ran to me. She never cried when I left, but now she does on my return. My brother is out with Grimbold Thane. I ask of my father.
When I left, many lives ago, I asked only for his blessing and his refusal hurt me deeply. I never had the courage to tell anyone of our last conversation, for I thought I could not be more wounded. Of course, I have been wrong. To learn of my father's passing was like a hundred wars, a hundred winters, a hundred broken hearts inside of me. My only regret was that I did not come sooner, for when he died, I was already in Rohan. But my foolish pride and secret fears kept me from his deathbed.
My mother gave me his last will, addressed to me. In my house, only my father knew how to use the letters. I learned them on my years of self exile and to receive a letter from him, was a surprise. Did he expect me to find someone to read it? No, he did not, as the letter stated:
"My son,
I cannot express how I missed you in these long years you have been away. It might come to you as a surprise that I learned most news of you while you were South of this world.
Your efforts in Gondor as a free rider came to me as treasures. I know every one of your deeds there. I was secretly happy when you started learning how to read and write, despite that not being the way of our people, for I hoped to receive news from your own words. If you sent any, they did not come to me.
But I suspect you never attempted to contact us. No. You wanted to be away from here, as you told me. You wanted to heal your own heart without harming others. Yes, my son. I understand it. I understood the day you told your wish to depart. In my foolishness and being the rude man I am, I could not tell you the words of comfort. I regret it now.
If you are reading these lines, then you have arrived too late. Do not blame yourself. I was aware of your arrival in Rohan, coming through strange paths (is it true you crossed the cursed woods and left unscathed?). I followed your career at the Limlight Gorge with much pride. And that is what I wanted to leave you, Hraidar. My pride for you.
I remember you were a little boy, following in Einar's steps, worshiping him! You were always the most daring of children! Now you have grown to be a man of Rohan. A rider, terrible and brilliant! I cannot imagine what father would be more proud of his own son.
Be well, Hraidar. And know your father loved you much.
Ravn Eirikson.
PS: I leave you a gift. If it is not in our home, than look for the armsman of Grimslade.
