Sometimes I wonder why I keep this diary. It is old, tattered and no-one except myself will ever read it. Nobody even knows I have it, or where it is kept. Yet, I find that if I look back on the pages I have written before, it is similar to looking at a painting of some distant Age. The person represented can be understood, but is not the same as you. I have changed so much I barely recognise myself.
At least Saeldith and I have made up. With our return to Bree searching for ways to begin our long trip to Gondor, we discovered fractures in our own relationship. I hope these have largely been repaired by the time we have now spent together. All Middle Earth could fall into the chasm of eternal blackness, but she would give me reason to survive.
Some might call me soft for being so devoted to a single woman. I would hold my sword to the throats of such men and force them to apologise to my wife. If I have had one goal in my time in the North, it is to regain the honour I lost with my exile. I will honour the oath I swore to Saeldith.
The question is: what do we do now? We are happy, yet what of our plans to return to Gondor? Should they still go ahead? Responding to each day as it comes seems to be the only option. I was never a strategic commander, only a front-of-the-line soldier.
Perhaps, one day, we will live the simple, peaceful life we desire.
D
P.S. I never thought I would hear myself say that. Peace? Once I would have found the idea dull.
