The wind is cold against my skin this evening; it blew from the East, from where I see the past beckon with its skeletal hand. Yet, never did this plague me till now. For this cold seemed to have lurked inside me for a long time; a time in which I found, and still exist in a state of uncertainty, of denial. Now even more than ever. After founding and killing my father and spilling his blood, slitting his throat, I have lost purpose. Is vengeance so powerful an emotion it can consume you so fully that when it’s spent you realize you were all along but a mere tool for its evil end; and now but used, left to dangle and flutter, aimlessly roaming the sands of time? Hah, such constellations of wonder only angers me. This is not something I share with others, for what business is it of them? He deserved every soul-destroying wail of fear he cried. Strange how they cry, these “noblemen”, these soft and weak, filthy “noblemen”. Oh so righteous bastards that come with their self-serving lies. These stiff-necked and pompous weasels that pollute the lives of the poor. I hate them.
However, that’s not why I’m filling this parchment with bumph in the light of a flickering torch. No. There was more that plagued me other than seeking excuses in a past already lived through. What I now feel is something I dare not even put upon pages as it is not recognized, these feelings, to myself.
But this I’ll do.
The town below me, Bree, which slumbers now so restfully, has become as much as a home as I had. Lake Town, that saw me survive and harden to the reality of life, saw me become the man I am now, conditioned me to its endless struggle, only shimmers vaguely as a ghost, an agonizing memory of a past rather forgotten. I came back, didn’t I? For fuck’s sake, I did what I told her I would. I… kept my word. I am here. But now Evengalline hides from me, like a frightened child, like a cautious and scared bird, hesitant to come to me when I call so insistently. Yet, does a man live not for what is and not what was? It feels as if I’m losing her once again. Has felt so for a long while now, since I came back. I worry about her and our unborn child, how they are doing and if she is okay, but she so seldom speak. I'm scared I don't know what to do.
Today, relaxing in the Pony, as usual, enjoying my mead and catching up with Barliman, Piperel came in looking rather wonderful, even in that dreary dress of hers. Perhaps I’ll get her a new one. I mean, why not? There’s no harm in that… is there? The day once again just promised to be spent either getting horribly drunk or wasted in melancholic splendor. No one sees this, though, as I try to hide most of my thoughts well. Amoryl and Taala being two of the only. Amoryl has become strangely like a sister to me, always happy to see and a smile upon that mischievous lips. Good company and cheer. Taala, well, there’s far more than meets the eye. A hard one to trust others but a steadfast and loyal friend, I’ve found. I will treasure her advice.
The day started off, though, rather pleasantly in the end, Piperel leading me down towards the park. What she had in mind, I had no idea, but pretty much didn’t mind, either. I liked her company. We kissed the other night, being drunk as a drowning badger and all, almost leading to us to make use of the room above the Pony. There’s just still so much that reminds me in that room about other times, times I spent with Eva and when we met. It’s sad to think back at how we were. I miss her. Yet, am I not excused to enjoy life and laugh while she hides herself away like that?
If it wasn’t for Rocho that came pulling at my pants - a good lad that; won’t reckon him a day over six, if any - and begged me to come help. Well, see, Rocho lives in Beggars Alley with his brood. I help as much as I can. It was a pity, though, Piperel baked a pie and for some reason, just then, I was absolutely starving. Well, Rocho’s brother had come into trouble with the law and I had to bail the poor bastard out. A petty lifting case, is all it was, but I gave them enough coin to carry on through the week.
