I have healed well enough so far.
Whilst extended movements, such as lengthy walks and the like, still leave me out of breath and aching, I can at least get out of my bed, do a few things around the house and even enjoy the sunshine in the large garden outside.
I often find myself looking north-west at those times. Blaecwyn's tracker returned, I was told, for her payment and spoke of the group travelling unerringly in that direction. She had been in no hurry, though, so it is highly possible that she caught up with them before Davick told me what he knew. All the same, that is where I know him to have been, and thus my gaze turns that way as I think on him.
Of course, my thinking of him brings me to consider the danger he must face which, in turn, brings my concern back tenfold. I doubt the Haradrim man will simply let my love go when his task - whatever that may be - is complete; this makes him a continued danger. The fact that Davick has not been to see me in some time tells me that he has, indeed, gone to do as he said; harry them along the road. I know of some of the dangers present in those lands as well, having travelled there myself in the past. I suppose, in a way, it is good that I am injured lest I forget myself and chase after them.
Thankfuly, Blodwynn brought me some materials a few days ago. I spend much of my time measuring, cutting, pinning and sewing now. The work keeps me distracted for hours at a time as I channel my concentration into making clothing for babies out of the fine cotton. Sometimes I look at the tiny garments, I smile and I wonder if Drevorin and I will ever have need of such things. Such thoughts are quickly overcome by the dire reality of the present and I find myself stitching more determindly in order to push those things from my mind, at least for a time.
Once in a while, as I work, I find myself regretting having Davick destroy the half-finished wedding dress that I had been working on back before I returned the ring to Drevorin. It was a beautiful thing and I would have worn it with pride on that special day. I have urges to begin anew and am forced to remind myself that he and I are no longer betrothed. I tell myself that if, one day, he asks again and I am satisfied that he trusts me enough, then I shall accept and make another dress; one to put the last to shame.
When the light fades too much for me to continue, I read by candlelight. Rather, I try to. All too often I find myself simply staring blindly at the page as my thoughts drift to the man I love and the friend who seeks his head. Both face so much peril. It is so hard not to dwell on it.
